


Forever, Now

by harriet_vane



Series: Forever, Now [1]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance, Panic At The Disco
Genre: Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-19
Updated: 2012-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-29 13:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 77,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harriet_vane/pseuds/harriet_vane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kidfic! Brian rescues kid!Gerard and Mikey from life on the streets, and eventually everyone finds a family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So many things about this fic are inaccurate w/r/t social services, kids, parenting, etc. but I hope you will enjoy it anyway. It was originally posted in 2008 on livejournal as commentfic, and somehow grew to be a series of fics over 200k long. Great great GREAT thanks to everyone who has read it in the last few years and left me a note or a kudo -- thank you for supporting my very first fic. :)
> 
> Please don't post this fic anywhere else, please don't distribute it anywhere, please don't put it on goodreads, and really really please don't link it to anyone being written about here. Thanks!

It was fucking cold outside.

Brian had his hands shoved in his pockets as deep as they would go, and they were still numb and red. He could see his breath every time he exhaled. He wanted a hot coffee to hold, to warm up his fingers, but he hadn’t worn gloves. Damn, he couldn’t wait to get home.

The problem was, he couldn’t hop on a bus, or take a taxi, or enjoy any of the other public transport everyone else in Philadelphia was using, because his wallet was gone. He’d lost it somewhere between leaving home this morning and leaving work, and rather than using the company car – he felt spoiled as it was, as the youngest business executive working on the music accounts – he figured he’d walk. It wasn’t _that_ cold.

But now the sun was dipping behind the buildings and the sidewalks were mostly empty and Brian’s nose was going numb. His scarf was slipping down from around his mouth, and he couldn’t really frown anymore; his whole face felt frozen. Brian was being a baby, sure, but that didn’t stop him from wishing he had his wallet.

He was about four blocks from home when he saw the kid. He didn’t recognize him specifically, more the idea of _dark hair dark jacket ripped jeans_ that he’d seen before at some point – that morning? The kid was standing in the opening of an alley, long hair hanging in her – his? – face, hands shoved in the pockets of ripped, grimy jeans and a jacket that didn’t look warm enough at all. The hair had thrown him off for a second, but the kid was a boy, Brian realized, maybe eleven or twelve years old. Where the hell were his parents? Who let a pre-teen wander the streets without a hat or mittens on the coldest March day Brian could remember? It was the kind of thing that made Brian grateful he didn’t have kids to worry about.

The kid looked up at him as he walked by. He had the biggest goddamn eyes Brian had ever seen; absolutely huge, dark lashes, tangled hair. Brian was pretty sure his mother wouldn’t have let him leave the house without at least _washing_ his hair now and then. Parenting was getting pretty slack.

Two things occurred to him, suddenly.

First, this kid probably didn’t _have_ parents.

Second, he remembered this kid from this morning, shortly after the last time he’d seen his wallet.

Brian stopped dead in front of the alley. The boy’s eyes went even wider and he took a step back, like Brian had said something. Brian was frozen, because he couldn’t figure out what he wanted to say. “Hey, did you steal my wallet?” seemed sort of confrontational. “Hey, aren’t you cold?” just seemed weird.

They stared at each other for a second. A car drove by, sending a tiny slush tsunami over Brian’s dress shoes. He shivered. The kid was skinny and dirty and his pale face was totally red where he was probably getting frostbite. Brian’s stomach clenched. He had to say something. The staring contest wasn’t helping anyone.

“Um,” said the kid, instead. “You dropped this.”

He held out Brian’s wallet with bright red, dirty fingers. He was chewing on his lip. Brian took the wallet and the kid snatched his hand back, like he was afraid Brian would try and grab him.

Brian didn’t need to flip through his wallet to know it would be empty; his drivers’ license was gone, but his work ID was still there, as was one of his credit cards. He was absolutely sure this kid had taken it this morning.

“Thanks,” Brian said, because anything else seemed kind of ridiculous. _Let me buy you something hot to drink. Let me buy you a winter jacket. Let me take you back to wherever you’re supposed to be where people are worried about you._ The boy just shook his head. “So I guess I owe you one,” Brian said, half-joking.

“It’s cool,” the kid said, shoving his hands back in his pockets. He took a step backward.

 _Shit. Fuck. Damn. I’m doing this all wrong._ Brian knew he ought to call the cops. He was pretty sure this kid would be long gone before they ever arrived. Did the cops give a fuck about this kind of stuff anymore? It was so Dickensian. “Let me – Can I—“

“Are you hitting on me?” the kid demanded. His scowl was ferocious.

The question made Brian want to throw up. He was under-qualified for this kind of after-school special bullshit. “No, no, I… Listen, I owe you. Here.” He fumbled his business card out of the hidden pocket of the wallet and held it out. “If you need anything, call me. Shit, you don’t have a phone. Come by. My address is on there. Seriously.”

The boy stared at him for a long second, and shook his head, but he reached forward and took the card anyway. It vanished in to one of the pockets of his jacket. “I won’t,” he said.

 _Yeah, I know,_ Brian thought, frustrated. “If you ever need anything,” he said instead. “Seriously. _Really_.”

That made the kid laugh, but it wasn’t a very nice sound. “Sure,” he said. “Why not?”

Another car drove by behind Brian, sending icy slush all over his ankles. He turned around to scowl, and by the time he turned back, the alley was empty.

| | | | | | | | |

  
Brian’s job expected a lot of him, and normally he was on the ball. Normally, he had his contracts better drawn up than anyone else, he was in contact with more people, he set up more gigs, he heard more new artists. He was the rock star of dealing with rock stars.

Unfortunately, right now wasn’t especially normal. It was hard to concentrate on his job when he found himself more and more walking home from work, just in case he happened to pass that alley and find that kid again. He hadn’t called the cops. He probably should have. As he waited to get a new license and new credit cards he thought that he’d probably been suckered by how young the kid looked, how earnest his face had been, how thin he’d looked. Brian was normally pretty tough. Something about that afternoon, though, had taken all the bite out of him. Nothing was normal anymore.

He missed a deadline because he was debating looking for a list of local runaways. He was late to a conference because he’d taken to walking to work every morning, no matter how cold, just in case. He spent twenty minutes at the GAP, staring at kids’ coats, wondering if he just bought one and left it on the sidewalk, would find its way to the right person? Probably not. He was getting stupid about the whole thing, he knew. Brian suspected he was having a small-scale nervous breakdown.

In the first week of April, his boss called him in and lectured him about getting his work done on time and well, and then maybe taking a week off to deal with what were obviously his mental-health issues. Brian promised that if things got worse, he’d go away and relax, knowing he couldn’t possibly leave town until he knew where that kid was. He figured staying at work until all hours might help him get his mind of the boy in the alley. If he thought about nothing but recording contracts and release dates, he couldn’t be watching weather reports for the night’s low temperature and making himself crazy. _Crazier_.

It was a full month later when Brian woke up in the middle of the night. His heart was pounding and he felt a little hung over from exhaustion. He frowned at the clock – 2 AM – and tried to figure out what had woken him up. His bedroom was pitch black, except for the glowing numbers on his clock radio.

The doorbell rang. _Oh_ , Brian thought, and then _Who the hell would ring my doorbell at 2 AM?_ He had a couple of crazy ex-girlfriends who liked to berate him in the middle of the night, but they mostly limited themselves to the phone. He blinked, trying to wake up and make himself think of other possibilities. The doorbell rang again.

Brian got as far as _What if…_ and found himself on his feet, running downstairs to the front door. He wasn’t very coordinated without a full gallon of coffee, and almost took a nose-dive down the stairs, stepping on his own pajama pants. For the first time since he’d bought the house, he wished it were smaller. He didn’t even bother with the peephole, just pulled the door open. A wave of cold air hit him, and he blinked.

The kid was standing on the steps, biting his lip. The streetlamp light made him look impossibly pale. Brian could feel his heart ricocheting against his ribs. Was this when he called child protective services? Was this when he called the cops? Was this when he offered the kid a hundred bucks and then cried himself to sleep for another month?

The kid visibly steeled himself, shoving his hands down in to his pockets and taking a deep breath. “Mikey’s sick,” he blurted, looking up at Brian and then quickly back down again.

 _Who the hell is Mikey? Are you Mikey? Oh my god, are there_ more _of you?_ Brian felt panic starting to rise and forced himself to take a deep breath. “Okay,” he said.

“And you said… I tried everything and he just keeps getting sicker and I can’t take him to the hospital and you said… Um.” He looked up at Brian with those giant eyes and Brian knew he wasn’t going to call the cops. Not tonight. “Can you… Never mind, this was stupid.” He retreated a step.

“Wait,” Brian said. He almost reached for the boy’s arm, and forced himself not to. “Who’s Mikey? C’mon in. I don’t know if I can help, but I can try.” He opened the door further and stood aside, hoping.

The boy looked at him dubiously. “I don’t know,” he said, biting his lip again.

“Mikey needs help, right?” Brian said desperately. “I have a friend who’s a doctor. I can call him.”

That made the kid look up, and he nodded, finally. Reluctantly. “Mikey’s my little brother,” he said, like he was giving away a huge secret. And then he edged past Brian into the house.

Brian shut the door with palpable relief. “I’m going to call my doctor friend,” he said. “Do you want something to eat? How about something to drink? It’s cold outside.”

“I’m fine,” the boy said quickly. He stood next to the door, clearly working out an escape route.

“My phone is upstairs. I have to—Just, don’t go anywhere, okay?” This was so stupid, the kid was going to be gone before Brian even got back downstairs, he ought to call the cops or someone, but all he could think about was another kid, even younger than this one, freezing to death out there somewhere. “What’s your name?”

The boy frowned, and shuffled his feet uncomfortably.

“I can’t just call you ‘hey kid,’” Brian pointed out, in what he hoped was a reasonable tone, heading for the stairs. Maybe if he ran up and back, he could keep this kid from bolting again. Maybe if he locked the door, the kid would have to stay inside where it was safe and warm. _I really am losing my mind._

“Gerard,” the boy mumbled, staring at the floor. He still hadn’t moved away from the door, but he’d started shivering, like being inside had reminded him how cold it was outside.

“Okay, Gerard, I’ll be right back,” Brian said. He sprinted upstairs, hit the number for Bill on his speed-dial, and ran back downstairs. He almost tripped and died. Again.

But Gerard was still there, looking miserable, shaking a little bit. Brian stepped in to the kitchen and grabbed an empty pot. He didn’t have a teakettle. He wasn’t home enough to buy kitchen-y things. He could heat water up and make some hot chocolate, though. All kids liked that, didn’t they? He tried to balance the water and the phone and keep an eye on Gerard, all at once.

Bill sounded mostly asleep and seriously pissed off. “What?” he demanded.

“I need a huge favor and I need it right now,” Brian replied.

Something in his voice must have been truly urgent, because Bill sighed and said “Okay, Bri. What’s up?”

“I need you to come over. There’s a sick kid, and I need someone to look at him.”

“Dude, I’m not a pediatrician. And why do you have a sick _kid_? Call his mom—“

“I can’t,” Brian snapped. Gerard was looking out the front windows. He was going to run back to his brother in another minute or two. “Bill. _Please_.”

There was a pause and then a sigh. “I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Bill said, and Brian remembered why he loved the guy. Sometimes it really was worth keeping around the friends you’d known forever. “You owe me. You owe me _so big_. You owe me your kidney and your first-born child and your vacation condo in Aspen.”

“Done,” Brian said instantly, and hung up. The water was almost boiling. He poured the cheap hot chocolate powder and the water in a mug and walked back out.

“I have to go,” Gerard said. He looked longingly at the door.

Brian offered him the mug. Gerard shook his head. “It’ll take a few minutes for my friend the doctor to get here. He’s a good guy. Can Mikey wait ten more minutes?”

“I guess he’ll have to,” Gerard muttered. He still didn’t reach for the cup, so Brian pushed it at him. 

“Here, take this. It’s not poison, it’s just hot chocolate. Honestly. I promise.” Gerard frowned, but took it. It was warm and he wasn’t, and after a moment he clutched it to his chest with both hands, breathing in the steam.

“Sit down,” Brian offered. Gerard’s face went dark and suspicious again. “It’ll be a little while. Seriously, you don’t need to stand. I’m not going to grab you or anything. Okay?”

Gerard looked around, like he would find hidden traps behind the couch. “Okay,” he said uncertainly, and sat gingerly on the chair nearest the front door. It was a decent compromise; he could still bolt if he felt like he needed to, but Brian was able to relax and take the first deep breath he’d managed since Gerard had shown up.

 _I don’t know what I’m doing,_ he thought miserably, and hoped he wasn’t making anything worse.

Bill showed up twelve minutes later. Not that Brian had been watching the clock, or watching Gerard grow progressively more restless, or running through a hundred thousand scenarios in his head where this all went horribly wrong. Not at all. Gerard jumped a mile when the doorbell rang, half-on his feet, clearly ready to run. “It’s my friend,” Brian promised, knowing it ought to have been CPS.

“This had better be fucking good,” Bill snapped when he opened the door. He was wearing pajamas and a winter coat, and he had a bag with him that Brian hoped was full of doctor-y things. He crossed his arms. “Because it is ass-cold outside and it’s 2:30 in the morning and I was asleep. What the hell, Brian?” And then he looked over and saw Gerard, and his face sort of froze somewhere around astonishment.

“This is Gerard,” Brian said, working hard to keep his voice neutral. “His little brother Mikey is sick.”

Bill, who was normally about the loudest person Brian knew, just nodded. Gerard was looking at him with those huge eyes and that earnest face, and Brian was pretty sure Bill wasn’t going to call the cops, either.

“Let me just grab my coat, and then you can show us where Mikey is, okay?” Brian asked.

Gerard was clearly reluctant, but he nodded. Brian and Bill followed him outside. “It’s not far,” Gerard said. He looked down the sidewalk like he might run, then back at them and rolled his eyes. He walked fast enough that Brian and Bill both and to work not to slip, but obviously not as fast as Gerard wanted to be going. Brian hoped like hell Mikey was going to still be okay when they got there. Gerard led them down the sidewalk and then around corners for a few blocks, and finally in to an alley off an alley off an alley in a not-great part of town.

 _Oh my god,_ Brian thought. He’d never felt so guilty for his house and his job and his life before. Next to him, Bill looked positively miserable.

“It’s not so bad,” Gerard said defensively. “It looks worse than it is. See?” He pulled open a door Brian was sure would have been rusted shut. In fact it didn’t open very far, and Brian and Bill had to squeeze to get in.

Inside was some kind of warehouse, not abandoned but not used often, either. It was a little warmer than outside, although still not homey. It was big and dark and silent, Brian thought, and then realized it wasn’t. Someone was coughing.

“Mikey,” Gerard said, and vanished in to the darkness. Bill and Brian followed the coughing in to the corner.

There was just enough light coming in through the dirt-covered windows for them to see a kid buried in a mound of old blankets. In the claustrophobic darkness of the storage room Brian could feel Mikey’s labored breathing and Gerard’s total terror on his brother’s behalf. There wasn’t much of Mikey to see, but he was definitely younger than Gerard, and maybe even skinnier. _Oh my god_ , Brian thought again. There wasn’t anything else to say.

“Mikey, this guy’s a doctor,” Gerard said, suddenly chatty. “He’s awesome and he’s going to make you feel better and you’re not going to be sick anymore, okay? We’re going to make you feel better. So you just have to start getting better right now. You can’t be sick anymore. Okay?”

Mikey nodded, or tried to, but it started him coughing again. Gerard sat down by his brother, brushing his hair out of his eyes. Brian had always considered ‘I felt my heart clench’ just an expression, and suddenly found it was an real thing you could actually feel.

“Hey there, Mikey,” Bill said, in his friendly doctor voice. “I’m gonna take your temperature and listen to your lungs and a couple of other things, okay? And we’re gonna fix you right up. Gerard’s been taking pretty good care of you, hasn’t he?” Mikey nodded again, and Gerard ducked his head. “He definitely has, I can tell. I’m going to put this thermometer in your ear, Mikey. Can you hold still for me?”

Mikey couldn’t, not really, not while he was coughing, but he tried. Brian stood uselessly off to the side while Bill did medical things with a stethoscope and Gerard talked to Mikey in a low voice. Brian couldn’t make out all the words, but it sounded like he was telling Mikey a story.

Eventually Bill walked over and said to Brian “It’s a bad flu,” he said. “It’ll be walking pneumonia in a day or two without treatment. He doesn’t need a hospital. Yet. But he can’t stay here. That fever needs to be monitored, that cough needs to be calmed down, and he needs a ton of fluids. He’s pretty dehydrated.”

Brian nodded. Bill expected him to make these things magically appear, and he didn’t know how. What was he supposed to say to Gerard? There had to be a reason two kids were living in a warehouse instead of somewhere safer. There was a story here, and it wasn’t very nice.

“Gerard,” said Brian. Gerard looked up. His eyes were about fifty years old, even if the rest of him was barely adolescent. “Bill’s got a diagnosis.”

Gerard stood up and came over to them, arms crossed. He was working hard to look adult, and in the dim light Brian could only barely make out how his hands were shaking. Bill repeated what he’d said about the flu to Gerard, who nodded. “He needs to be inside. Do you have anywhere to take him?”

 _No,_ Brian saw all over Gerard’s face. Gerard put his chin up and swallowed hard. “I’ll figure something out,” he said confidently.

“How about my house?” Brian blurted. Bill and Gerard both looked at him skeptically. “I have an extra bedroom. Bill’s close by. We can put Mikey in the extra room until he’s feeling better and Bill can come by and check up on him. Right?” He looked hopefully at Bill.

Bill sighed. “It’s better than here,” he allowed. _But this is a good time to call the authorities_ , added every line of his body. Brian decided to ignore him, just like he was ignoring everything else he didn’t want to think about right now.

“You’ll call the cops,” Gerard muttered. He was staring at his sneakers, hunched in on himself. “I can’t… Mikey can’t go back there.”

Brian couldn’t promise never to call the cops, although the dread and resignation in Gerard’s voice was doing a lot to persuade him. “You trusted me tonight, right?” he said instead, “And so far so good. Trust me to help Mikey, okay?”

Gerard looked up at him out of the corner of his eye. “You promise?” he whispered.

“Brian—“ Bill started.

“Yeah,” Brian said. A cold lump settled in his stomach. “I promise.”

They looked at each for a long minute, until Gerard finally nodded, grudgingly. “Okay,” he said quietly. “Fine.”

“You’re an idiot,” Bill muttered under his breath, but he rolled his eyes in resignation. “Grab the little one. It’s cold as hell out here.”

Brian and Gerard maneuvered Mikey out from under the pile of blankets and Brian picked him up. The kid weighed nothing. He was nearly unconscious, except for a sniffle and a mostly-muffled “Gee” to his brother, before he closed his eyes and seemed to sleep. Gerard hovered worriedly behind Brian as they walked out of the warehouse, as if the cops were going to appear at any second and drag them both away. Or as if Brian might drop Mikey. Bill walked behind Gerard, muttering to himself about how stupid the whole thing was.

Brian knew. He knew he was making decisions that were questionable at best. If anyone came by, he didn’t know how he’d explain what two kids with no last names were doing in his house. He was going to call in sick and take that week off after all, apparently. And he was going to have to pay Bill back for the rest of his life.

But Brian also couldn’t imagine having said or done anything else. Not when he looked down at Mikey’s pale face and heard him wheezing with every breath, or the muted terror Gerard was working hard to hide. Brian was optionless.

He put Mikey upstairs in the guest bedroom and let Bill start working out which kinds of cold medicine to pour down his throat. Gerard hovered around the edge of the room and Brian, feeling even more useless, went downstairs to see if he had some soup, or tea, or whatever the hell you gave sick children. Brian hadn’t been sick more than a couple of times in his whole life, and his mother had taken care of everything. She was kind of a miracle worker that way. Her chicken soup could revive the dead. Brian didn’t keep any of the ingredients on hand, though, and he almost never cooked anyway.

Brian ended up with more hot chocolate and a bottle of Tylenol. He carried them back upstairs like a peace offering. Bill had the situation well under control already; Mikey was sleeping and Gerard was sitting next to him on the bed, while Bill wrote notes. “Here’s what I gave him,” he said quietly, handing Brian the pad with a list of medicines. He’d left a pile of bottles on the chair. “He gets more every four hours, both the fever-reducer and the expectorant. Lots of water, lots of soup, lots of Gatorade. If he stops being able to keep it all down, call me again, because that’s not good. He should probably get a bath at some point, too; it’s hard to tell if he’s pale or flushed under a layer of dirt. I’ll stop by tomorrow to check in.” He shook his head. “You have no idea what you’re getting in to, Brian. You know that, right?”

Brian nodded. He put the mugs down on the end table in case Gerard wanted one, although he doubted it; the kid's eyes were sliding shut, now that his panic over Mikey had started to fade. “Yeah,” he said. “Believe me, I know.”

“I called your mom,” Bill went on. “She’ll be here in the morning. Jesus, it is morning, I guess. I’m going to bed.”

Brian stared at him for a minute. Sometimes it was awesome having a friend who’d known you forever. Other times it was just disconcerting. “Thanks,” he managed. “You’re the best.”

“Yeah, and you fucking owe me,” Bill said. He turned to Gerard. “Take care of him, Gerard.”

“I will,” Gerard nodded, yawning.

Brian let Bill out, thanked him another few hundred times, and went back upstairs. Gerard was half-lying on the bed next to Mikey, one hand quietly petting his brother’s shoulder like he was reassuring himself that Mikey was still there. Mikey was sniffling and coughing in his sleep, but it wasn’t as scary in a bedroom in a house as it had been in a dark, cold warehouse.

He wanted to say something to Gerard, but couldn’t figure out what. So he stood in the doorway for a few minutes, watching as both boys’ breathing started to even out and Gerard’s hand stopped moving.

“We’ll go in the morning,” Gerard said suddenly, voice rough and low.

Brian flinched. “No,” he said quickly. “You have to stay until Mikey’s better. I mean, you _should_ until Mikey’s better. Please stay.”

“It’s your house,” Gerard said stubbornly, yawning. “You don’t have to—“

“I want to,” Brian assured him. “It’s safe here, Gerard. You can stay.”

The look on Gerard’s face was utterly defeated. “Yeah,” he muttered. “That’s what they all say.” And then he yawned again and his eyes dropped shut.

Brian stayed up the rest of the night, jumping every time Mikey coughed, and watching them sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

“This is a terrible idea, Brian Schechter. And I think you should know that I think it’s a terrible idea. What were you thinking?”  
     
It was amazing, Brian reflected, that his mother could make soup, grit her teeth, smile, and shame him, all in one breath. Really it was almost her mutant super-power. The soup smelled great, though.  
     
 _I wasn’t thinking_ didn’t seem like much of an answer. _I don’t know either,_ sounded even worse. “Why don’t I see if Gerard will come down and eat?” he said instead.  
     
“Do that.” She pointed the soup spoon at him. “I want to meet this young man who’s been lurking upstairs. Brian, did you even _consider_ that he might be on drugs? Or that he might rob you? Or that he might let his friends, who are on drugs, in to the house to rob you?”  
     
“Soup smells great, ma,” Brian said, kissing her on the cheek, and fled upstairs.  
     
Gerard had been almost mute all morning, shaking his head firmly when Brian suggested he could sleep on the couch, or that he might want to come downstairs and eat. He wasn’t leaving Mikey, that much was clear. Also clear, from the way he shrugged and rolled his eyes, was that he thought Brian was an idiot for even suggesting it. Brian gritted his teeth a little bit.  
     
He was mildly surprised to hear talking at the top of the stairs. Had Mikey woken up? He’d been mostly unconscious, except for when Brian forced cold medicine down his throat, or when Gerard tried to move and Mikey grabbed at his shirt.  
     
“—And that’s when Clayface goes in, but Batman has already set up the vault of the bank with all these monitors, and every monitor is showing a different movie Clayface made back before he was Clayface. And when he sees himself, he can’t control his face and it keeps changing and changing and then he gets upset and punches the monitor and he’s electrocuted. It’s definitely not the coolest way Batman killed someone, but it’s pretty good. Only then, at the end, it turns out that Clayface was faking his death all along. Remember? C’mon, Mikey, that’s like your favorite episode ever. Okay, or what about the clock guy, Tempis Fugit? That means ‘time flies’ in Latin, Mikey.”  
     
Brian cleared his throat. He remembered that episode. It was pretty good. Gerard looked up and scowled. Mikey was fast asleep.  
     
“Come on downstairs and meet my mom,” Brian said. “She’s making soup for Mikey, we thought you might like some.”  
     
“I already had a mom,” Gerard muttered. “I don’t want yours.”  
     
 _‘Had,’_ Brian thought. _Interesting_. “You can’t have mine, dude,” he replied. “I don’t rent her out or anything. But the soup’s good, honestly. I wouldn’t lie about soup. Soup is sacred.”  
     
Someday he would get a smile out of Gerard, but it clearly wasn’t going to be today. “What if I don’t like soup?” he demanded.  
     
“You’ll like my mom’s soup,” Brian promised, digging his nails in to his palms so he wouldn’t snap. Were all kids this irritating? “Or, you know, we can make mac and cheese. Mom’s flexible.”  
     
Oddly, that seemed to decide Gerard in favor of moving. He looked guiltily at Mikey and wavered for a second, then squared his shoulders. “Fine,” he said, “I’ll come downstairs. But then I’m coming back up.”  
     
“Well… Yeah,” Brian said. Kids were weird. Or maybe Gerard was weird. Possibly both.  
     
Gerard went downstairs as slowly as possible and stood at the edge of the kitchen with his arms crossed, glaring. “Mom,” Brian said, “this is Gerard. Gerard, this is my mother, Jeanne.”  
     
“Oh my god,” she said, almost dropping the spoon. “Oh my _god_. What is he, ten years old? Brian, you didn’t tell me they were babies!”  
     
“I’m fourteen,” Gerard scowled.  
     
“You are not fourteen.” She was already filling up a bowl for him.  
     
“Yes I am. I mean, I’ll be fourteen in like, a month. I’m _practically_ fourteen.”  
     
“Well come here, mister fourteen-in-a-month, and have some soup.”  She put the bowl on the counter and her hands on her hips. “Look at you. You need a vat of soup.”  
     
“No, I don’t,” Gerard grumbled, but he came over and sat on the stool anyway. The soup smelled really good, and he was biting his lip. He had to be starving.  
     
Brian would have pegged Gerard’s age closer to ten, but he was willing to concede that thirteen was possible, as long as Gerard was small for his age. It didn’t make him feel any better about the whole situation. It did explain some of the attitude, though. He vaguely recalled being a holy terror from about thirteen to about… Well, twenty-five.  
     
“Brian, this place is a wreck. Do you ever cook? I found a hundred take-out boxes in the fridge and no food at all. I’m going to have to go shopping. I can not believe you live like this.” She looked approvingly at Gerard, who had already inhaled an entire bowl of soup, and spooned him some more. “Here. Also, I know I taught you to wash the dishes, and yet here I find an entire sink full of bowls that are growing colonies of mold. Unbelievable. I’m going to take some soup up to the other one—“  
     
“Mikey,” Gerard scowled.  
     
“—and I want those dishes washed.” She handed Gerard a roll and swept upstairs, soup in hand.  
     
Gerard looked at Brian. “Your mom is kind of scary, dude,” he said. He was almost half-way done with the second bowl, which was frankly amazing.  
     
“Yeah. You should try spending 18 years with her sometime.”  
     
“She’s pretty pissed at you, huh?” He considered the bread for a second, and then started inhaling that, too.  
     
Brian sighed. “It’s not that,” he said. “She’s been waiting a decade for me to get married and have grandbabies for her, and you and Mikey, although you’re both pretty cute, are not what she had in mind.”  
     
“Hmmmm,” said Gerard thoughtfully. Or maybe his mouth was just full.  
     
“If you want to get on her good side, just tell her you like the soup,” Brian advised. “That seems to distract her from whatever she’s yelling about.”  
     
Gerard nodded. He’d decimated two bowls of soup and a decent amount of bread. Not that Brian was surprised, but the kid had refused to eat anything Brian offered him all morning. Brian felt a little slighted.  
     
“Those dishes are not going to wash themselves!” Brian’s mother hollered from the stairs. “I’m going to buy some Pedialyte for the little one upstairs—“  
     
 _“Mikey_ ,” Gerard repeated, scowling and sucking on his spoon.  
     
“—and groceries for you and I want the dishes washed. Also, that one has to take a bath.” She pointed to Gerard and put on her jacket.

Gerard’s eyes went comically wide. “What? Why?”  
     
“Because you are filthy,” she replied firmly.

“The soup is good,” Gerard said hesitantly, looking at Brian. It was a good try, but his mother was not going to be swayed on something she considered as vital as bathing.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Your brother needs a bath, too. He had a little bit of soup, but the poor thing is awfully sick. He needs something easier on his tummy. You, dishes. You, bath. I’ll be back in an hour.”  
     
The door banged closed behind her, and Gerard looked at Brian. “Is she always like that?” he asked.  
     
“No. Sometimes she’s bossy.”  
     
Gerard very nearly smiled at that. Or at least, he didn’t scowl. Brian decided to count it as progress.  
     
“There are towels in the bathroom,” Brian said, grimacing at the sink. She’d gotten a lot more dishes dirty making the soup. He hated washing dishes. He was a junior executive; why didn’t he have a maid? “And I have lots of clean clothes in the bedroom. Go ahead and grab whatever.”  
     
Gerard dumped his bowl and spoon in the sink, and then cocked his head deliberately. “Aren’t you worried I’ll steal your stuff?” he asked. His tone was totally snotty again. Brian’s jaw clenched a little bit. “I mean, I took your wallet. I heard your mom ask you about me. If I were you, I’d worry.”  
     
Brian picked up the sponge and deliberately didn’t look at Gerard. “I have Mikey as a hostage. I don’t think you’re going anywhere just yet.”  
     
There was a long pause. He was joking about Mikey, but he suspected Gerard wouldn’t take it that way. It was probably yet another thing that would make Gerard scowl and shut down and roll his eyes a lot. Eventually, though, Gerard just said “Okay,” and went back upstairs.  
     
Brian washed the dishes and put them away and threw away an entire trashcan full of take-out containers. Luckily the rest of the apartment was clean, because he was almost never home long enough to do anything except watch television and go to sleep. Of course, that meant there wasn’t anything to entertain two pre-teen (barely-teen, apparently) boys except the TV, but that had always been enough for Brian when he’d been a kid. Maybe he should move the little TV from his bedroom in to the guestroom.  
     
He went upstairs to check on Mikey, who was fast asleep, and found Gerard standing in Brian’s bedroom. He was clean and damp and dripping all over the carpet, which was fine. He’d found an old t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that went about a foot past his ankles, but what had stopped him dead in his tracks was that he’d also found Brian’s comic book collection. He was looking at them somewhere between awe and shock.  
     
“Oh, you found my deep dark secret,” Brian joked, coming up behind him.     
     
Gerard jumped. “I wasn’t touching anything,” he said quickly, backing up. He didn’t sound like himself; his voice was higher and panicky and his face was paler than it had been, even without all the grime.  
     
“Go ahead. It’s a shoebox full of Punishers and X-Men. I used to be a pretty serious collector, but they aren’t mint or anything. I don’t mind.” Gerard’s reaction was a little weird, and he was shaking his head like he wasn’t hearing Brian at all.   

The kid put his hands behind his back and shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said.  
     
Brian frowned. “Sorry for what?”  
     
“You said I could come in here and I didn’t… I didn’t mean to…” Jesus Christ, he had _tears_ in his eyes. Brian froze. He was pretty sure Gerard wasn’t talking to him anymore.  
     
“Gerard, it’s okay,” he said quietly.  
     
Gerard hiccupped, once, and stared at the floor. “I shouldn’t have touched his stuff,” he said in a whisper. “I said I was sorry. I _said_ it. I _was_.”  
     
“Gerard—“  
     
“But he shouldn’t have touched Mikey.” Gerard was looking off in to space, somewhere behind Brian’s arm. “I was _sorry_.” He bit his lip.  
     
Brian’s hands flapped uselessly for a minute, and then he grabbed the box of comics and thrust it at Gerard. “Here,” he said. “Go ahead and read them. They’re yours, okay? I don’t mind.”  
     
 _Who touched Mikey? What did you see? What the hell happened to you?_ Brian was pretty sure if he asked, and Gerard answered, he was going to end up murdering someone. His hands itched to go around a neck. It was weird, because Brian had only been in one fight in his entire life, and that had been a playground disaster. The urge to maim wasn’t his usual response to anything.  
     
Plus, ten minutes ago he’d been annoyed as hell at Gerard. Of course, ten minutes ago the kid had been giving him attitude like a sassy sit-com character; the Gerard standing in front of him was a little bit broken. _I’m not calling the fucking state if you’re going to end up going back where ever you just were in your head,_ he promised Gerard silently, and knew Gerard wouldn’t believe him.  
     
Gerard inhaled a long, shaky breath. “Okay,” he said, rubbing the back of his hand across his cheek. Brian was pretty sure he didn’t know he’d been crying. He blinked a couple of times, like he’d just come back in to the room. “I can read them to Mikey.” He looked very seriously at Brian and added “I’m going to pay you back. I’m going to – I’m going to figure out how.”  
     
 _Just tell me who I have to kill and we’ll call it even_ , Brian thought. He nodded. “We’ll work something out later, when Mikey’s feeling better.”  
     
After a second Gerard took the box of comics and his eyes got big again. “Oh, wow, you didn’t say you had the whole Dark Phoenix Saga,” he said. The vulnerable little kid from a moment ago vanished, replaced by a perfectly normal geek. Brian recognized the symptoms of a serious geek-out. “They messed that story up so bad in the movie.”  
     
“Seriously. She was supposed to be on the moon, not in a lake,” Brian agreed, grateful to have something they could discuss without tears or snotty teenage attitude.  
     
“It was so lame.” Gerard flipped through the comics, muttering to himself. “Oooh, I haven’t read this one. I’m gonna go read it. To Mikey, I mean.” He looked mildly guilty. “Mikey likes comics, too.”  
     
Gerard could definitely read, then, which answered a couple of questions Brian had been wondering about. Could Mikey? How far behind in school had they gotten, living in a warehouse? Gerard seemed pretty smart, either way. “I bet it’ll make him feel better,” Brian agreed. Gerard rolled his eyes and wandered out, getting the ink all smudgy with his damp fingers.

Brian considered banging his head against the wall.  
     
Clearly if he was going to keep Gerard and Mikey around very long he was going to have to figure out what had happened to them. He’d sort of known it couldn’t be good – no one chose to live on the streets, and at least Mikey was cute enough that, old as they were, _someone_ would have wanted to take them in – but until he’d seen the look on Gerard’s face he hadn’t realized just how not-good it must have been. Brian couldn’t believe the ferocity of his own response. His hands were still shaking a little bit with suppressed adrenaline.   
     
He hadn’t asked Gerard, not even obliquely, what had happened. For one thing, he was pretty sure Gerard wouldn’t tell him, and for another, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Oh, he wanted to know so that he could commit murder, but he also didn’t want to know, because it made him feel like throwing up. Brian knew he was a bad, bad man; what kind of grown-up couldn’t handle hearing about what had actually happened to a thirteen-year-old kid? But Brian had been successfully avoiding kids, anything to do with kids, and girlfriends who wanted to talk about kids, for a long time. And that was just _normal_ kid stuff. This was traumatic and horrific and he never, ever wanted Gerard to look like that again.  
     
He felt angry and scared and overwhelmed all at once. He was absolutely terrified that he’d say the wrong thing and Gerard would vanish, taking Mikey with him. He was, he realized suddenly, equally terrified that they’d _stay_. What the fuck was he going to do?  
   

|    |    |    |    |

Gerard looked at Brian with undisguised horror. He even put the comic book down. “What is _that_?” he asked.  
     
“It’s a sweatshirt,” Brian replied, frowning.  
     
“It has a _wolf_ on it.”  
     
“Well you have to wear _something_. Maybe my mom thought you seemed like a wolf-sweatshirt kind of guy.” Thank god she was still downstairs, doing mother-y things. Maybe she could talk to Gerard and get him to stop being such a little snot. Brian was definitely not ready to be alone with him, not when he wanted to throttle him so badly.  
     
“Well I’m _not_.” Gerard crossed his arms.  
     
“I like it,” Mikey said.  
     
They both looked at him. Brian’s mother had come home with four bags of groceries – “They are growing boys!” – and a bag full of clothes. The jeans, apparently, were the wrong color, the t-shirts were itchy, and the sweatshirt had a wolf on it. Gerard was having none of it. Gerard had been a brat all afternoon.  
     
Mikey, on the other hand, who’d only just woken up, seemed absolutely enchanted. He didn’t smile or anything, but it was kind of in his eyes. “It’s cute,” he said, looking pleadingly at Gerard, and then coughed.  
     
Brian would have given in immediately, but Gerard just shook his head. “Mikey, no.” He glared at Brian. “Our stuff is fine.”  
     
“Your stuff is filthy,” Brian objected  
     
“But it’s _our stuff,_ ” Gerard repeated.  
     
Brian rolled his eyes. He offered the sweatshirt to Mikey, who took it happily. Then he yawned and started coughing again.  
     
Gerard went instantly from belligerent to concerned. “Hey,” he said, “cough drop? Cough medicine? Water?”  
     
Mikey shook his head miserably and curled up against the pillow. Cleaned up, he looked about eight years old, although Gerard insisted he was eleven. Gerard petted his forehead and started talking quickly, voice a little higher-pitched than usual. “You want me to read some more to you? I only got halfway through the part about Cyclops. Hang on, let me grab it.” Mikey just sniffled and closed his eyes. “Okay, look, see, Wolverine and Cyclops were just about to get in to it, the way they always do. And then Wolverine goes ‘So this is your great plan, Scott?’ and Cyclops glares at him, not that you can tell with his glasses on, but you can see he’s frowning right here, and—“  
     
“I think he’s mostly asleep,” Brian interrupted softly.  
     
“Oh.” Gerard’s face fell a little bit. “Right. Okay. He’s still pretty sick.” Gerard tapped the blanket anxiously for a minute and then pushed his hair out of his eyes. “Don’t you have to go to work? Are you just gonna stare at us all day?”  
     
Considering it was almost eight o’clock, it seemed a little late for that question, but maybe Gerard wasn’t sure what working hours actually were. “I’m taking a week off work. And I wasn’t staring,” Brian said defensively.  
     
“Dude. You’ve been staring at us since _last night._ ” Gerard rolled his eyes. “It’s creepy.”  
     
“Well. You’re new.” Brian was aware that wasn’t much of an explanation. “I’m not used to having kids around.”  
     
“We can go,” Gerard scowled. “You don’t have to hint around about it.”  
     
“No, that’s not what I meant. I meant… I haven’t talked to anyone who wasn’t a music executive in years. And the musicians are childish, but not actual children. So this is just different for me, and I keep worrying you’ll… I don’t know. Throw up. Fall over. Break.”  
     
“We won’t break,” Gerard scoffed.  
     
Brian suspected otherwise, but felt it wasn’t very smart to say so. “Well, I’m sorry I’ve been staring. And I’m sorry the sweatshirt has a wolf on it, but honestly, when did a mom ever buy anything cool?”  
     
“I don’t care that it’s not cool. It’s just not _mine_ ,” Gerard said.  
     
Brian sighed frustratedly. “Okay,” he said. “I get that. But it won’t fit me, and your jacket’s pretty old.”  
     
“I don’t want it,” Gerard said fiercely. “I want _my_ stuff. We just want to keep our stuff and get out of here. I can look after Mikey. We don’t need you.” He put the comic down and crossed his arms.  
     
“Fine,” Brian said.

 _“Fine_ ,” Gerard shot back.

They stared at each other for a long minute, and then, unwillingly, Gerard yawned. He managed to glare while he did it, which was impressive. “I’m going to put sheets and pillows on the couch in here,” Brian said, “so you don’t have to sleep on top of Mikey tonight.”  
     
“I don’t care. It’s fine,” Gerard muttered.  
     
“Fine or not, I’m putting pillows over here,” Brian snapped. It wasn’t that he’d expected the kid to thank him or anything, although that would have been nice, frankly. But other than a ten-second conversation about comics and the terrifying storm of tears just before it, Gerard was nothing but attitude. Brian had a vague idea that all thirteen-year-olds were nothing but attitude anyway, and that Gerard was especially good at it. A hey-thanks-for-saving-my-brother’s-life wouldn’t kill anyone. A sure-the-sweatshirt-is-ugly-but-my-jeans-are-old-and-ripped-and-falling-apart wouldn’t hurt.  
     
 _This is why I don’t have kids_ , he thought huffily, grabbing the extra sheets he’d never actually used before. Thank god for ex-girlfriends with nesting instincts. He threw the sheets and pillows on the couch while Gerard glared at him. He glared right back. He wasn’t the kid’s dad, he didn’t have to be mature about it. “Sleep here, sleep over there, sleep wherever the hell you want,” he said.  
     
“I will.”  
     
“Fine!” He stomped out before Gerard could say ‘fine’ back. He was not going to argue with a kid. At least, not any more than he already had.  
     
Jeanne was in the kitchen, putting things in the freezer. She looked him up and down and sighed.  
     
Brian felt petulant and grumpy. He sat down on the kitchen stool and resisted the urge to scuff his sneakers against the floor. “Kids suck,” he said.  
     
“Oh, sweetheart, of course they do,” she clucked. “That’s why you’re not supposed to just take the first ones you see home with you.”  
     
“I mean… He’s so difficult,” Brian complained. “I’m trying to help.”  
     
His mother looked at him for a long minute, and then picked up the spoon she’d been cooking with and smacked him on the back of his hand.  
     
“Ow! What was that for?”  
     
“Brian. Use the brains God gave you. He’s a baby, he’s scared to death, and for the first time in a long time he’s not in control of the situation. You’re not supposed to take in strays, honey, but if you do, you can’t expect them to act like pampered pets.” She shook her head. “He’s worried that no matter what Bill says, Mikey won’t get better. He’s worried that you’re going to call the cops. He’s worried that you know where they were staying and now they’ll have to find somewhere else. He’s worried because Mikey likes you. He’s worried that you’re going to turn out to be awful. Cut him some slack.”  
     
“Did he tell you all that?” Brian asked, dumbfounded.

Jeanne shook her head. “Possibly I have experience with children,” she said dryly.

“But…” Brian didn’t feel like being reasonable. “I _should_ call the cops. Damn it.”  
     
“You’ll have trouble explaining why you took them home in the first place,” his mother pointed out.  
     
 _Damn it._ “I really resent that you’re always right,” Brian complained.  
     
“Well, now you have kids of your own, to resent you,” she answered sweetly.  
     
His heart started trying to thump out of his chest. “They aren’t mine,” he said. Was it especially hot in the kitchen all of a sudden? Brian’s head was swimming. Maybe he was coming down with Mikey’s flu. “They’re _not_.”  
     
“Oh, baby,” she said, and her tone was kind, but her eyes were filled with pity. “I’ve known you for twenty-eight years. You don’t really think you’ll be able to send them away now, do you?”  
     
 _Yes. Yes._ Yes. _Oh my god, I don’t know._ “Sure,” Brian bluffed. “I wouldn’t even know where to start to think about keeping them.” It would involve miles of red tape, and he’d have to bribe half the government. Who would know how to do that? Gabe-in-legal always seemed to know a guy who knew a guy, and he was definitely shady, but would he know about this kind of stuff? Brian realized suddenly that he was considering it – he was _actually considering_ how he’d go about keeping Gerard and Mikey – and felt sick. He’d never even gotten a dog.  
     
“Well, you’d better figure it out, because when Mikey gets better, Gerard is going to bolt. There’s lasagna in the freezer, and I made pie. You just put it in the oven and heat it up. I got some lunch meat for sandwiches, and more bread, and lots of juice and Gatorade for Mikey. I got cereal, too. Make sure Gerard drinks milk; if that boy is really thirteen then he’s about a hundred meals behind.” She kissed him on the forehead and grabbed her purse.  
     
“You’re leaving?” Brian asked stupidly. “Ma, you can’t leave. I don’t know what to do with them. I think Gerard hates me.”  
     
“Your messes are your own to clean up,” she said firmly. “Good luck, honey. I’ve done what I can. You’ll be fine.  Unless you get thrown in jail for kidnapping, and then I promise to be a character reference and visit you every weekend.”  
     
“Ma, that’s not funny. Ma!”  
     
She already had her coat on and was halfway out the door. “You’ll be fine,” she said again, and waved, and then got in her car and drove away.  
     
Traitor. His mother was a filthy traitor. Brian slammed the door. Of all the people on earth who knew he was absolutely unqualified to take care of kids, she should have been number one. Instead, she was leaving him alone with them. Maybe Bill would come over again. Maybe he could call one of his ex-girlfriends and get them to tell him what to do next. All of his plans had ended around ‘Get them inside and find them somewhere to sleep.’ He hadn’t thought beyond that. Honestly, he hadn’t even really thought that far.  
     
He was in big, big trouble.


	3. Chapter 3

Bill stopped by in the morning – thank god he was working the 3-11 shift at the hospital – and said Mikey was getting better, and was going to be fine. Gerard crossed his arms and frowned skeptically, and as soon as Bill left he shut the door to the bedroom, sequestering himself with his brother.

On the one hand, Brian was happy not to deal with grumpy Gerard and sick Mikey if he didn’t have to. On the other hand, it was kind of weird for a kid to shut himself up in a room all day. Brian went downstairs and watched TV. He was supposed to be on vacation, after all. Normally he would have gone away somewhere, or hit a bar or a concert and picked someone up, but he was pretty sure you couldn’t leave kids Gerard and Mikey’s age alone in the house.

Soap operas sucked just as hard as he remembered when he’d been home sick as a kid.

At some point Gerard snuck downstairs to rifle through the fridge. Brian was so busy hating on the guy with the big square jaw who was talking to the woman in the prom dress that he didn’t notice until he saw Gerard, out of the corner of his eye, attempting the stairs with two bowls, a plate, two mugs, and a bunch of sandwich ingredients. What in hell made the kid think he had to sneak around, when Brian had offered food every five minutes?

“Dude, let me help,” Brian said, lunging to grab the plate out of Gerard’s hands before bread and mustard ended up all over the carpet.  
      
“I can do it,” Gerard snapped, but he couldn’t grab it back because he was holding soup pretty precariously with both hands.

“Right, but you have more stuff here than hands,” Brian pointed out.

“I can do it _myself_ ,” Gerard repeated.  
     
Brian decided the path of least resistance was to ignore him completely and headed up the stairs. Gerard followed, stomping as resentfully as he could without spilling soup everywhere.

“Feeling any better, Mikey?” Brian asked, putting the plate down on the table. Mikey, mostly under the blankets, blinked a couple of times and shook his head.

“He’s _fine,_ ” Gerard said. “I got him soup. You can go.”  
     
“Gee,” Mikey chided. “Don’t be rude.” He sniffled and coughed and buried his face in the blankets. I _’m going to have to burn those_ , Brian decided.  
     
“I’m not!” Gerard yelled, getting all high-pitched. “We just don’t need him! In here, I mean. We don’t need you in here.”

Mikey yawned. “I think he’s nice. He makes good soup.”

“He didn’t even make it,” Gerard grumbled, but he seemed unwilling to argue with Mikey the way he argued with Brian. He dropped on to the couch and pulled his knees up to his chest.

 _I am losing a battle I didn’t even sign up to fight._ Brian wondered for the millionth time if he’d done the right thing by letting the kids stay with him. He could maybe, possibly, just a tiny bit, understand why Gerard had had a hard time finding a foster family. He felt guilty thinking it, but it was true. “Do you guys need anything?” he asked.

“No,” Gerard said immediately.

Brian sighed. “Well, let me know, okay, because if I go shopping I have to get someone else to stay here with you guys and I –“

“Why, in case I start stealing your stuff?” Gerard huffed.

“No,” Brian said, gritting his teeth. “Because you’re _kids_ and Mikey’s _sick_.”

Gerard rolled his eyes. “We’re not babies.”

Brian was giving himself a hell of a headache from clenching his teeth so tightly. He was a master negotiator; he was paid to make difficult situations work out the way he wanted them to. Surely he could reason with a teenager. “Do you guys want me to move the TV in here? You must be getting bored—“

“We’re _not_.”  
     
Mikey’s eyes were slipping shut already, and Gerard’s arms were crossed, jaw set stubbornly. Brian decided to surrender and fight another day. “Okay,” he said. “Fine. Enjoy the soup.” He managed to keep himself from slamming the door shut, but it was a near thing.

Brian went upstairs every couple of hours to check on Mikey and give him more cough syrup and Gatorade. Gerard sat, face turned away, staring sullenly in to space. The box of comics was sitting, deliberately untouched, by the door, and neither Brian nor Gerard would admit to its existence. Brian refused to take it out in case Mikey, who might be a reasonable human being, wanted it.

It was a long, miserable, infuriating way to spend a day.

The night was worse.

Brian woke up suddenly, heart pounding. He was starting to get used to being startled awake. It wasn’t the doorbell, though, it was a noise in the house. For a second he froze, and then he realized he’d heard a voice. He’d heard Gerard.  
     
 _Mikey’s getting sicker_ , he thought wildly, nearly falling out of bed. _Mikey’s sick or Gerard’s freaking out again or—_ He rushed down the hallway and eased open the boys’ door.  
     
Gerard said clearly “No,” and then made a weird gasping noise like he couldn’t breathe. _“No_!”  
     
The lights were off and Mikey seemed to be asleep. Brian frowned. He could hear Gerard breathing too loudly and too quickly. The kid would have been an indistinguishable lump, all wrapped up in sheets and blankets, except that the lump was flailing a little. “Gerard?” Brian said softly.  
     
“No,” Gerard insisted again, muffled by the pillow.  
     
Brian sat down on the edge of the couch and put his hand on Gerard’s shoulder. “Hey, Gerard,” he said. “It’s okay. Wake up.”  
     
Gerard’s whole body was shaking. His arm shot out and almost caught Brian in the nose, and then he jerked himself awake and sat up. He blinked owlishly, chest heaving. “I wasn’t—“ he said. “I didn’t mean to--- I… I _hate_ him.”  
     
“He’s not here,” Brian promised. He had a sneaking suspicion they were talking about the same person they’d been talking about with the box of comics a couple of days ago. He tugged Gerard a little bit closer, putting his arm around his shoulder. It was the first time he’d gotten close enough to touch Gerard, the first time it had seemed like Gerard would allow it. “You’re at my house, remember?” he said. “Everything’s okay.”  
     
Gerard made a stifled, swallowed noise and buried his face against Brian’s shoulder. He was still trembling. Brian moved his other arm up and around Gerard, patting his back until the kid was breathing again, and his shoulders weren’t heaving with every inhalation. “It’s okay,” Brian said, because he didn’t know what else to say. “Did you have a nightmare?”  
     
“No,” Gerard mumbled in to Brian’s shirt.  
     
Brian realized that his heart was pounding, too; he wasn’t sure what he’d thought was happening, but apparently it had required a lot of adrenaline. “Okay,” he said. He wasn’t much of a middle-of-the-night person, and his brain was going two speeds too slowly. “Well, you’re okay now.”  
     
“I know,” Gerard said, but without any of his usual bite. The acknowledgment made something in Brian’s chest go tight. Brian wasn’t sure if it was that Gerard knew whoever he was dreaming about wasn’t here, of if he knew that Brian was someone he could trust. Either way, he was surprised at how fiercely protective he felt.

He also couldn’t quite believe that Gerard hadn’t moved, or objected to Brian hugging him. Apparently when he was mostly asleep he forgot that he hated everything and everyone. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, not very hopefully. Maybe someone who’d spent years with a kid knew what to say when he was upset. Brian felt very much out to sea without a map or a compass or anything.  
     
“It wasn’t a nightmare,” Gerard said, and sniffled. He wiped his nose on the back of his hand. Kids were sort of gross, which Brian had forgotten, having spent so little time with them. “It was just… I dream about stuff that happened, sometimes.”  
     
 _Oh, shit._ “What kind of stuff?” Brian asked. If he was plotting murder in his head, he didn’t plan on telling Gerard. He couldn’t help the way he tensed up or clenched his jaw, like he was bracing himself against a blow.  
     
“Just. Some of the families we stayed with were bad. Some were good, too,” he added reassuringly. He looked earnestly up at Brian, as if Brian were going to condemn all parents based on Gerard’s pronouncements.  
     
“But some of them were bad.”  
     
“Yeah.”  
     
Brian considered freaking out. Where was his mother when he needed her? Where was an ex, even, someone who cooed at babies and said creepy shit about wanting to eat kids up with a spoon? He forced himself to take a couple of deep breaths and act like the grown up he kept claiming to be. “Bad how?” he asked.  _I don’t want to know, I don’t want to know._  
     
“Well.” Gerard considered for a second. “The first woman we stayed with. She told us we should stop whining and start thanking Jesus for taking our parents where they wouldn’t ever suffer anymore. She wanted us to say thank you because they were so lucky. And I told her to go to hell, because I don’t care if it’s selfish; I wish they weren’t dead. She wasn’t very happy about that.”  
     
 _And now my list has a person number one,_ Brian thought. “Yeah?” he asked. “What did she do then?”  
     
“She slapped me and washed my mouth out with soap. And then she called Claire and told her we weren’t working out.” He sighed. “And it sucked, because Mikey didn’t want to move, but…I couldn’t be grateful about mom and dad. She was stupid.”  
     
“Who’s Claire?”  
     
“Our caseworker. I didn’t apologize or anything, because I’m pretty sure she was wrong.” He scowled, but he was still leaning against Brian. It was kind of nice. He felt surprisingly fragile under Brian’s hands as Brian rubbed Gerard’s arm in a mindless, soothing rhythm. “I’m still not sorry.”  
     
“Good,” Brian said, and the ferocity in his voice startled him. “What a shitty thing to tell a kid.”

Gerard nodded and sniffled. He’d calmed down, and his breathing was starting to even out. “After that, everyone seemed okay for a while.”  
     
“Oh. Good. But you kept moving around?”  
     
Gerard shrugged awkwardly. “Things kept happening.”  
     
“Gerard, how long has it been since you… How long have you and Mikey been on your own like this?”  
     
Gerard apparently didn’t want anything to do with kind turns of phrase or softened language. “Our parents died two years ago,” he said. “They were killed by a drunk driver.”  
     
Brian couldn’t help it; his arm tightened around Gerard in another hug. “I’m sorry,” he said. It was so fucking inadequate. Was there a class in how to offer comfort somewhere?  
     
“It’s okay,” Gerard said. “I mean, it’s not. But we’ve been okay. I look after Mikey, and he doesn’t get too sad, even when really stupid shit happens to us. As long as Mikey has me I think he’ll be fine.”  
     
 _And how about you, kiddo?_ Brian wondered. He swallowed the urge to ask. It was fairly obvious that Gerard wasn’t okay. It was also clear that as long as Gerard had Mikey to focus on, he’d manage to stay afloat. “Gerard, if you want to talk—“ he started awkwardly.  
     
“I’m going to check on him,” Gerard said, and wiggled away. Brian let him go. He felt a little bit claustrophobic in the dark guest room. He felt guilty because he was grateful that Gerard didn’t want to talk. He didn’t know what he’d say if the kid started pouring his guts out. Brian thought about calling the state again. _At least then he’d be around people who know what to do_ , he thought. _And he wouldn’t be my responsibility anymore,_ added a tiny, nasty voice.  
     
Gerard seemed fine now; he put his hand on Mikey’s forehead and listened to him breathe for a minute. Brian couldn’t see his face in the darkness, but he was sure it was very adult, probably frowning.  
     
“How’s he doing?” Brian asked.  
     
“He’s getting better really slowly,” Gerard fretted. “I wish he was better already. Can Bill come back tomorrow and check on him again? I’m not worried or anything, but I want to make sure he’s getting better.”  
     
Brian braced himself and took a deep breath. “Gerard, if that wasn’t a nightmare—“  
     
“Sorry I woke you up,” Gerard interrupted. “I can go back to sleep. It’s fine.” He folded his arms expectantly.  
     
It wasn’t a hint, it was more of a boot out the door. Brian was totally thankful for it, though; he didn’t want Gerard to tell him anything else; he wasn’t ready for it. He didn’t know if he ever would be. _There’s a reason I’m not a parent, or even a boyfriend,_ he acknowledged to himself. Still, everything his mother had said was bouncing around and he felt obligated to at least offer to listen. “Gerard,” he said after a second, “if you ever want to tell me anything—“  
     
“I’m going to sleep,” Gerard repeated firmly. “Good night.”  
     
Brian sighed. “Okay,” he said. “We’ll get Bill to check on Mikey tomorrow. If you need anything—“  
     
“I _don’t_.”  
     
Brian threw his hands up. “Right,” he said. “Okay then. See you tomorrow. Sleep well.” He moved out of the way so Gerard could climb back up on the couch. Gerard’s shoulders were up around his ears. Now that he was awake enough to carry on a real conversation, he was too awake to share. Maybe tomorrow night he’d have another nightmare, and Brian could find out Gerard’s last name. Maybe in a month he’d find out what all the other bad families had done. Maybe in a year Gerard would laugh at one of his terrible jokes.  
     
Maybe in another day or two Gerard and Mikey would be gone. Brian couldn’t decide if he’d be relieved or upset if that happened. It kept him awake for a long time.

\    \    \    \    \

Bill came over again in the morning and had an hour-long argument with Gerard about whether or not Mikey was getting better. Bill managed not to lose his temper, but Brian was getting edgy; he hadn’t been out of the house in what felt like forever. Bill was trying, without success, to get Gerard to leave the room for a few minutes and go do something else, and Gerard was reacting with typical disdain for the suggestion. Brian went downstairs and pretended he couldn’t hear them. If Brian wasn’t ready to deal with Gerard himself, he was definitely not ready to moderate an argument between Gerard and anyone else. Maybe if Mikey started getting better he’d know how to deal with his brother.  
     
Eventually Bill gave up and let Gerard sit with Mikey; he came in to the living room and threw himself on the couch. “That kid is going to have an aneurism before he’s 15,” Bill groused. “He’s worse than my grandmother.”  
     
“Slip him some cold medicine; maybe he’ll sleep,” Brian replied, and then felt instantly guilty. Gerard _wasn’t_ sleeping. Neither was Brian, really. Brian wasn’t used to being responsible for anyone besides himself, and he was probably doing it all wrong anyway. He tugged on his collar. Were the walls closer than usual in here?  
     
“He does look tired,” Bill mused. “I swear to god Mikey is getting better. Gerard absolutely refuses to believe me. His fever is down, he’s coughing up more and he’s eating more. I am never going to try and reason with a teenager again. This is why I work at the hospital. The patients are all too sick to talk back.”  
     
“Talking back is Gerard’s specialty.” Brian couldn’t help how petulant he sounded.  
     
Bill frowned at him. “Dude, are you starting to have second thoughts about having them here? You can always call child welfare, you know. Get them out of your hair.”  
     
“I don’t want them out of my hair,” Brian snapped. Except he did. Just for an hour or two, but god, he needed to get out of the house. He thought about Gerard’s face last night, and what his mother had said before she left, and tried to take deep, calming breaths. “I just want a break.”  
     
“Parenting is a full-time gig.”  
     
“I’m not their parent.” Brian crossed his arms.

Bill held up his hands in surrender. “You’re right, you’re not,” he agreed. His tone sounded a lot like he was talking down a crazy person, which Brian resented the hell out of. “You’re not responsible for them, except for the part where the little one would be half-dead right now if he weren’t here. Your obligation is discharged. You’re free to get them out of here anytime. No one’s forcing you to let them stay.”  
     
“I know that!”  
     
“Dude, why are you yelling at me?”  
     
 _I’m not_ , Brian wanted to yell, which was stupid. Maybe he’d caught the urge to yell all the time from Gerard. “I can’t get rid of them,” he said finally, gritting his teeth. “They aren’t puppies I found in a box. They’re _kids_. They need someone to watch out for them. Gerard can’t be responsible for Mikey; Gerard is just a kid, too.”  
     
“Right,” Bill agreed slowly.  
     
“But there’s all this stuff with Gerard that I don’t know how to deal with. I don’t think I _can_ deal with it. Half the time I want to strangle him with my bare hands and the other half the time I want to tell him everything’s going to be okay and kill the people who fucked him up like this. You act like you expect me to know what to do, and I have no idea. I don’t know how to talk to kids! I don’t know how to be responsible for kids! What do kids eat? What do kids do all summer? What if Gerard never calms down and starts acting like a sane person? What if Mikey gets sicker when he should be getting better? This is all way, way too much!”  
     
Bill just stared at him. “Okay,” he said finally. “One step at a time. Do you realize that all the things you just said make it sound like you think they’ll be sticking around? Are you… Are you planning to _keep_ them? Because Brian, I know you mean well, but that’s… That’s crazy.”  
     
“No!” Brian snapped. “God, of course not.” He stood abruptly. “I just need some air. Can you stay for a little while? I need to get out of here. I have to… I have to go for a walk or something.”  
     
“Brian,” Bill started. “Are you okay?”  
     
“I’m _fine_ ,” Brian snarled, grabbed his coat, and stormed out. It didn’t occur to him until later how much he sounded like Gerard.  
     
The cold air hit him like a slap in the face at the bottom of the stairs, and he shoved his hands in his pockets. He didn’t have a hat, but he was so angry he barely felt the wind. Just the blood pounding in his temples, giving him a hell of a headache.  
     
He couldn’t imagine why he felt so worked up. Three days ago Gerard had just been some kid he was worried about in the abstract. Mikey hadn’t even existed. Gerard’s shitty attitude and constant combativeness shouldn’t have been able to get to him that quickly; Brian dealt with bands all the time. Your average lead singer had about the same level of maturity as a thirteen-year old, but he was on drugs to boot. Brian dealt with them and never lost his temper. No business deal he’d ever closed had made him feel so much like he was drowning. No promotion had ever overwhelmed him the way having two kids just stay in his house was.  
     
Brian stomped down the slushy sidewalk, pulling his shoulders up and his ears down. He was, he realized, on his usual route to his bar. He wanted a beer, but it was a little early in the day. Actually, he wanted to sit in a booth in the back in the dark and drink about thirty beers and then maybe pick up someone and take her home and have no one be there except him. That way she could roll out in the morning and he wouldn’t have to feel guilty about it. He wouldn’t have to feel guilty about anything.  
     
He couldn’t, though; he couldn’t have a beer or bring anyone home or do any of the things he usually did when he was feeling stressed. He couldn’t even leave the house without getting a babysitter. A _babysitter_. There was a reason Brian didn’t have a dog. He couldn’t be home all the time.  
     
That was it, Brian realized, straightening up. He’d have to call the authorities when he got home. He was no fit guardian for Mikey and Gerard, not even a temporary one. He wasn’t that much better than whoever they’d run away from. He wasn’t providing them with stability and nurturing and all that bullshit stuff that kids needed. He couldn’t keep a girlfriend for longer than a month or two; there was no way he could keep kids. In fact, the three days they’d been around was probably longer than he should have let them. He’d go back, he’d call someone up, and the kids would be someone else’s problem.  
     
Sure, Gerard would be pissed. But he was thirteen. He was used to feeling pissed. He’d feel a little betrayed, too, but he had to know Brian’s agreement not to call them in had been a temporary thing. And if it came down to it, well, Gerard seemed pretty used to betrayal.  
     
Brian stood in the ankle deep snow and took a deep breath. The city was quiet around him. Everyone else was at work or inside, where it was warm. The cold air was starting to make his lungs burn, and his nose was going numb. Now that the anger had worn off, actually, he was feeling numb all over.  
     
He expected to feel a surge of relief because he’d made a decision. That was how Brian operated; he stressed about something for a little while, had trouble sleeping, maybe skipped a few meals. Then he worked out what to do, and all that tension lifted right out of his shoulders. Now that a decision was made, he should have felt better.  
     
He felt worse.  
     
His whole back was aching and the headache behind his eyes was throbbing. _Mikey’s flu_ , Brian thought, and knew it wasn’t. Brian stopped walking and dropped his head, closing his eyes. He took a couple of deep breaths and exhaled slowly, feeling the cloud of steam forming in the crisp air.  
     
There was one other thing.  
     
Brian was the best executive in the music department. Gabe and Travis liked to joke that he had magic powers, but he just had the best instincts. He could see a band, and just _know_. Sometimes it was in their eyes, and sometimes it was in their music, but more often it was just a feeling, deep in his gut. Brian knew which bands were _it_. He’d been signing bands for seven years and he hadn’t been wrong yet, hadn’t made even one mistake. His instincts were absolutely killer. It was unfortunate that it hadn’t extended to his girlfriends.   
     
His instincts were screaming at him, and had been since he’d first seen Gerard in the alley.  
     
Gerard and Mikey were supposed to be his.  
     
It was totally illogical. It was counterintuitive. It was stupid. Hell, it was probably impossible.  
     
Gerard and Mikey were _supposed to be his_.  
     
That was why he felt so miserable. He was fighting every instinct he had. He’d had a girlfriend who cried in the middle of the night sometimes; he’d always pretended to be asleep.  But when Gerard woke up in the middle of the night, he hadn’t run away or called his mother or pretended not to hear. He’d gone bolting in to the kid’s room.  
     
He’d been mad at Gerard, he realized suddenly, for forcing this situation on him, but it wasn’t Gerard at all. Brian had known all along and he’d been trying not to admit it. Of course Gerard was being a brat; he was a kid. He was scared and upset. Brian had gotten pissed because he didn’t want to admit that he _cared_ that Gerard was upset. He wanted to blow him off and act like it didn’t matter, and he was freaked out because it _did_.  
     
Well _, shit_.  
     
He could still go home and call. There were bands he’d known would be successful that he hadn’t signed, because he knew when he was in over his head. He didn’t want to be getting any 4 AM phone calls about suicides or dead prostitutes in the hotel. He could go back and call whoever he was supposed to have called two days ago. He could hand the kids over.  He’d keep his life and his job and his house all to himself. He’d still have free time and awesome vacations and more than enough money.  
     
The thing was, he wouldn’t have _Mikey and Gerard._  
     
He’d had a conversation with his mother once, a few years ago, when she had asked him despairingly if he even wanted to _think_ about having children. “I’m not ready, Ma,” he’d replied lightly. She’d shaken her head and said “Sweetheart. No one ever is.”  
     
 _I just made a decision_ , Brian realized suddenly, and _there_ was the lightness in his chest he’d been expecting. He picked his head back up. The cold wasn’t as bad, and his headache was going away. He could feel the tension draining out of his shoulders. This time the decision was the right one.  
   

\    \    \    \    \    \     
     
“Are you crazy, Brian?”  
     
“Why do people keep asking me that?” Brian complained. He kicked the bedroom door shut. Gerard was still watching Mikey like a hawk, reading him comics or something. Mikey was definitely starting to look better, which was good, but it meant Brian had to get off his ass and start working on what was a potentially impossible situation.  
     
“Dude, aren’t you taking a mental-health week? Isn’t that kind of a clue that you might be crazy?” Gabe had a really obnoxious laugh. Brian kind of hoped he choked on something at work.  
     
Brian massaged his temples with one hand. “Gabe,” he said. “I’m calling because you’re the sleaziest dude I know. Now, either you can help me, or I’m going to call Travis and tell him where you really went over that vacation in January. And then I might just call the girl you went away with and tell her about Travis. Is that what you want?”  
     
“Just because I was on vacation—“  
     
“Dude. I know about _the basement._ ”  
     
There was a pause. “Right,” Gabe said finally. “Great. Okay. So you want me to look up what?”  
     
“A bunch of things. First, I need to know the last name of two missing kids. Gerard and Mikey something. They’re about 13 and 11, they would have been in the system, they should have been reported missing a few months ago.”  
     
“Why? Wait, I really don’t want to know.”  
     
“Second, I need you to figure out what I’d have to, uh…” Brian took a deep breath. His raging headache was back, but this time it was just stress. “Say I wanted to adopt a couple of kids. What would I need to do to make it happen?”  
     
“Are you _insane_? I know I asked before, but I’m really serious this time. You, Brian Schechter, want to _adopt—“_  
     
“Shut up,” Brian said tersely. “Just figure it out.”  
     
Gabe was laughing so hard he could hardly breathe. “You have gone fucking wacko, my friend. Is this the same dude who was partying with not one, not two, but _three_ different chicks in Las Vegas? Is this the same guy who dumped Angie on her adorable little ass for suggesting she might want to move in some day? Is this the same guy—“  
     
“Jesus,” said Brian. “Yes, okay? I have no business taking care of kids. I don’t know anything about them, and these two are pains in the ass; the little one is sick and the big one is a brat. I haven’t had a goddamn minute to myself in two days, and they wake me up at night. My mom thinks having them here is a stupid idea. Bill thinks it’s crazy. You think I’m crazy, and you _are_ crazy.”  
     
“Well then, what the hell, dude?” Gabe demanded.  
     
If Brian could have articulated it, he would have by now. Instead he found himself sort of flailing with one hand. “Because I have to,” he said. “I’ve got that gut feeling. You know the one. It’s never wrong.”  
     
“Yeahhhhh,” Gabe said slowly, “but these are kids. Are you sure it applies?”  
     
“Yes. I’m sure. It sounds crazy, I know, but I’m _sure_.”  
     
“Okay. So you’ve got a mission from God to watch two kids you found on the street. Sounds normal to me. Why the fuck not? As long as you know that means you never get to party again. You can’t fly all over the country signing bands. You can’t bring girls home from the shows. You can’t get bored and move to fucking Tahiti.”  
     
Brian was going to strangle Gabe with his own stupid necklace. “I think about not partying anymore, and it sucks,” Brian acknowledged. “But I think about not having Mikey and Gerard around and it… Gabe. I can’t.”  
     
Gabe whistled. “You’re that serious?”  
     
“Like a heart attack.”  
     
“Holy shit, dude. Did the clouds seriously part? Have there been undocumented burning bushes in Philly?”  
     
“More like I stayed up all night last night trying to figure out why I couldn’t sleep, and this is it.”  
     
“You’re _sure_ you’re sure?”  
     
“Absolutely,” Brian said grimly. _Terrified, but sure_.  
     
“All right,” Gabe drawled. “I should have the kids’ names by tonight. That won’t take too long. The other thing is harder, but I think I know a guy who knows a guy who maybe can help out with that, if you don’t mind a little light bribery and maybe extortion. That system is totally fucking corrupt, man.”  
     
“Good. Then get me the phone number of their case worker, too, if you can. Her name is Claire, apparently.”  
     
“Got it. Dude, you take the weirdest weeks off _ever_.”  
     
Brian clicked his phone shut and rested his head against the wall. It was done. He wasn’t sure if Gerard was going to appreciate it or if it was even going to be possible, but things were in motion now. He’d sent the first snowball down the mountain. Setting up deals was what he did; he’d just have to figure out how to make this deal happen.  
     
The next step was probably to talk to Gerard and Mikey.  
     
Brian headed in to the bedroom. Gerard was sitting with Mikey, who was finally awake and looking a little bit alert. Despite Bill’s assurances, Brian had been wondering if maybe Gerard was right and his brother was getting worse. But there was finally some color in Mikey’s face, and he was listening to his brother with a rapt – if mildly annoyed – expression.  
     
“—And that’s when you show up to help Batman. On a motorcycle,” Gerard was saying earnestly. Brian decided to lurk outside the door for a minute.  
     
“I don’t want to ride a motorcycle,” Mikey objected, and then coughed. “I want a unicorn.”  
     
Gerard rolled his eyes. “Okay, you have a unicorn. You also have a sword. And you swing the sword over your head and totally chop the Joker’s head off. Only he ducks out of the way at the last second behind you, because he’s tricky.”  
     
“I don’t think I want to kill him,” Mikey said thoughtfully. “Then who will be Batman’s arch nemesis?”  
     
“I don’t know,” Gerard said, exasperated. “Me. I’ll do it. You can fight me.”  
     
“But you can’t fight Batman, Gerard. No way. He’d totally kick your butt.”  
     
“Mikey! Do you want to hear what happens next or not?”  
     
“Can you draw it?” Mikey asked. “I want to see me and a unicorn.”  
     
Gerard ‘hmmphed’ and rolled his eyes again, but he grabbed the pad Brian kept by the phone and started sketching. Mikey was almost smiling, which was the closest to happy Brian had seen him. He was also sniffly and coughing, but Gerard wasn’t diving for the cough syrup, so Brian assumed it was okay.  
     
“There,” Gerard said finally. “It’s you and a unicorn and Batman. Okay?”     
     
“Can I see?” Brian interrupted, walking in.  
     
Gerard’s face, so open with Mikey, dropped straight in to a scowl. “No,” he said, but Mikey had the pad and showed it to Brian.  
     
It was, in fact, a damn good drawing of Mikey – dressed as Superman – standing next to Batman, and petting a unicorn. If Gerard had sketched that off the top of his head Brian was curious what he could do with some time and a real set of drawing pencils. “Wow,” he said. “That’s awesome.”  
     
“Gerard’s awesome,” Mikey agreed confidently.  
     
Gerard’s scowl got fiercer. “Give it back,” he demanded. “It wasn’t for you.”  
     
 _This is what you want,_ Brian reminded himself. _This kid is what you want. Even with the shitty attitude._ “You guys hungry?” he asked, deliberately changing the subject.  
     
“No,” Gerard muttered. Mikey looked at him for a second, then back at Brian, and shrugged.  
     
“We can order food,” Brian offered. “Anything you want.”  
     
“I don’t want anything. We. We don’t want anything.”  
     
“Well how about—“  
     
“Stop it!” Gerard exploded, standing up. Mikey looked as surprised as Brian felt. “Just stop it!”  
     
It was funny, actually, how much easier it was to keep his temper now that Brian planned to be in it for the long haul. “Stop what?” he asked mildly. “Stop being nice to you?”  
     
“Yes!” Gerard snapped.  
     
Brian just barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. “Gerard,” he said, “that’s pretty unreasonable.”  
     
“I don’t care,” Gerard said furiously. “I don’t want you to be nice to us. I want you to go away.”  
     
“My house,” Brian pointed out.  
     
Gerard stomped his foot. “I don’t care!” he yelled again. “Stop it! Leave me alone!”  
     
“Stop being nice to you?”  
     
“Yes!” Gerard took a deep breath. He was on the verge of tears , Brian realized suddenly, but they were clearly tears of frustration.  
     
 _Last night, when he was upset, he started telling me things,_ Brian thought, and deliberately pushed. “Why can’t I be nice to you and Mikey?” he asked, dropping his voice.  
     
“Because,” Gerard said, desperately upset, “the nice ones always go away.” His voice broke and he crossed his arms tightly across his chest.  
     
Brian felt like he’d been punched. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said.  
     
“ _You can’t promise that_ ,” Gerard whispered. He wiped tears off his cheek with the back of his hand. “Mr. Rossi was nice and he had a heart attack. The Edwards were nice and they decided to adopt someone else and we had to leave. Our parents were nice and they never came home. You can’t promise _anything_.”  
     
 _Oh, Jesus_. Brian had really hoped to have a few more days before this kind of storm broke. “Gerard,” he said. “I—“  
     
“I don’t want your stuff and I don’t want your house and I don’t want _you_ ,” Gerard said, almost sobbing. “You have to stop being so nice to us all the time. It isn’t – it isn’t _nice_. It’s like teasing or something, and I know you’re gonna call the cops to come and get us and I – I – I—“ he hiccupped for breath “—and I know it isn’t fair to Mikey, either, but we can’t go back to _him_ and I—“  
     
Brian stepped across the room and grabbed Gerard, drawing him in to a hug. Gerard pushed him away for a second, and then just collapsed, like a puppet with cut strings, sobbing against Brian’s neck. They ended up awkwardly kneeling on the floor, Brian holding Gerard up with an arm around his back and the other rubbing soothingly against Gerard’s neck.  
     
 _Twice in a day_ , Brian thought. _This had better not be a pattern._ “Hey,” he said, looking past Gerard to Mikey, who was sitting up with wide, terrified eyes. “It’s gonna be okay.”  
     
“No it’s _not_ ,” Gerard wailed. “Nothing is okay. Nothing is ever, ever okay.”  
     
There wasn’t much Brian could say to that, so he didn’t try. Mikey, however, climbed out of bed and came over to join them. He put his arms around his brother’s neck, and Brian backed off to let him take over. “It’s okay, Gee,” Mikey said softly. “I feel better, and Brian’s the good kind of nice. Okay?”  
     
The weirdest part, Brian decided, was that as overwhelmed and terrified as he felt in the face of a crying kid, he was just as sure as ever that he’d made the right decision. Gerard needed people to be nice to him, and someone to help him take care of Mikey. Mikey needed someone to help him take care of Gerard.  
     
“Gerard,” Brian said quietly. Gerard took a long, hiccupping breath, and looked up. “This may be kind of a bad time. But I have a proposal for you guys.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Nothing about the child-services portion of this story is going to be accurate. I don’t want to write about how Brian spends five years trying to get the proper paper work filled out, and I suspect no one wants to read it, either. Except for what I know about it through my job, where I’m a mandated reporter, I’m making this up. If that’s going to bug you, you’ll want to skim a lot of this part and the next part.  
> 2) There are several OCs wandering around. I thought about just shoehorning bandom people in everywhere, but it wouldn’t work because I just don’t know the other bands well enough to write them, and there aren’t any women. (The only chicks in bandom I know at all, in fact, would be the MCR wives and girlfriends, and I refuse to include them randomly in the story.) I don’t want to just have people there for the sake of having people there, so I’m using OCs instead. Which is not to say Frank isn’t about to show up any chapter now. (Oh, Frank. I miss you.)

“So who’s that guy?”

Brian pointed. “The one on the left I call Square Jaw Shark Teeth. He’s somehow related to the woman on the right with all the hair.”

“Oh.” Mikey tilted his head consideringly. “I never saw hair like that before.” He sniffled and coughed a little bit, trying to muffle it in the blanket.

“You never will again, dude.”

“Is she his wife or his daughter?”

“I’ve been watching for three days, and I have no idea.”

Mikey nodded and took a long drink of tea. He was all curled up on the living room couch with blankets up around his neck. In as much as Mikey ever got excited, he seemed thrilled to finally be out of bed. He looked tired and pale but there was a little color in his cheeks, and he could say a whole sentence without coughing. The soap opera cut to a commercial and Brian stretched.

“What does that say?” Mikey asked, frowning.

“It’s just a commercial for a local lawyer. You can tell it’s cheap because he’s shouting the whole time.”

Mikey squinted at the screen. “Oh,” he said. “I couldn’t read that.”

 _Oh, damn it._ “Mikey. When you were in school… Did you… Do you learn--”

“I _know_ how to _read_ ,” Mikey said, with an exaggerated eye-roll. Sometimes he really sounded like Gerard. “It’s just all blurry.”

Brian relaxed a little, although he was suspicious. “Really?” he asked, grabbing a comic book Mikey had dragged downstairs with him. “Read me something.”

Mikey sighed. He sounded incredibly put-upon. He opened the comic to a random page and squinted at it for a minute, then put it about an inch and a half from the tip of his nose. “’What are you doing, Logan?’” he read haltingly. “‘That’s the poor…’ The poorfo… Oh, ‘the professor’s machine.’” He readjusted the comic even closer to his face. “‘The dis… The disappearing parts had to be collected.’”

Brian glanced over his shoulder. The word was ‘disparate,’ which wasn’t a word he’d expect Mikey to know anyway, but he was more than a little concerned at how much Mikey was squinting. “Did you ever wear glasses, kiddo?” he asked.

“No.”

“But that’s really blurry if you hold it in your lap?”

Mikey shrugged and put the comic in his lap. He frowned and squinted. “I can’t see it at all there,” he said. “It’s just… Like a pretty smudge.”

“Right. We, my friend, are going to take a trip to the mall later on, and get you some glasses.”

“You mean when Gerard wakes up?”

“Right.” _If Gerard ever wakes up_ , Brian added to himself. The kid had been asleep for, seriously, more than twelve hours and was still totally dead to the world. Once he’d stopped crying he’d gone sort of limp and ended up falling asleep mostly on Brian. He hadn’t stirred since. Mikey, on the other hand, after a good night’s sleep, was finally mostly awake. “We’ll get you some cool glasses, and you’ll be able to see everything.”

Mikey shrugged philosophically. Brian had no idea if glasses were good thing or a bad thing in Mikey’s opinion. He wasn’t entirely sure Mikey had opinions, beyond ‘I guess if Gerard says so,’ and occasionally ‘Sure, even though Gerard doesn’t think so.’ Wasn’t that the way it worked with siblings, sometimes? One of them would be hyper-articulate, and the other would, in response, be mostly non-verbal?

Of course, ‘articulate’ was giving Gerard a lot of credit, and maybe Mikey talked more when he wasn’t coughing up a lung. Then again, they’d been sitting on the couch together all morning, and this was nearly the only conversation they’d had. So maybe not.

“Are we really going to stay here?” Mikey asked suddenly.

“I hope so,” Brian said. The question, coupled with Mikey’s matter-of-fact tone, filled him with a weird mix of hope and guilt. “Would that be good?”

Mikey shrugged. Brian got nervous; they were supposed to _want_ to stay. Then Mikey added “I like it here a lot,” which made Brian feel better. He patted the kid on the knee through four layers of blankets. “Just, Gee gets kind of cranky.”

“I noticed.”

“Do you really read comic books, or do you just pretend?” Mikey continued.

Apparently transition sentences were not Mikey’s strong suit. “Why would I pretend to read comic books?” Brian asked, baffled.

Mikey shrugged. “Gerard said some people just pretend. Because there are movies, I guess. Or Lord of the Rings. It doesn’t count if you’ve only seen the movies. You have to read the books, too.”

“That’s what Gerard says?”

“Yeah.”

“Has he read them?”

Mikey shrugged.

“Well, I’ve read them. And I really do read comic books. Does Gerard draw anything besides comic book characters?”

“Vampires, sometimes.”

 _Okay, that’s mildly worrying._ “Why does Gerard draw vampires?”

“He draws whatever he makes up stories about. He has a lot of stories.” Mikey sounded the tiniest bit put-upon again. Brian got the feeling that sometimes he was less little brother and more captive audience.

“And he tells you stories about vampires?” Brian frowned. He was pretty sure getting a child-psychologist in to talk to both of them was going to be part of the process of keeping them. If Gerard was daydreaming about killing people and drinking their blood then he certainly hoped so. He wasn’t equipped to deal with that.

Mikey shrugged again. “Sometimes. For a while all the stories were about vampires and how Gerard killed them. Only not like Buffy, because he’s a guy.” That had the sound of something Mikey had heard over and over again. “Lately not vampires so much. More superheroes. It changes.”

The psychologist was clearly going to have a field day with Gerard. “He draws really well,” Brian said. “Did he ever take classes?”

“No. Well, at school. The art teacher said he was drawing things that showed he was, uh, maladjusted. He got sent to the principal’s office. A lot.”

 _Maladjusted, huh? I can see that._ “When were you both last in school?” Brian asked.

Mikey looked up at the ceiling and counted on his fingers for a second. “We left in the second month of school last year. That school sucked anyway. Some kid punched Gerard and the teacher told Claire I was crazy because I didn’t talk.”

Brian got the impression that putting them back in to school in the fall was going to be a challenge. “You didn’t talk?” Brian asked. “Why didn’t you talk?”

Mikey shrugged. It was illustrative, if not illuminating. The soap opera was back on, and it was distracting Mikey a little bit.

“And that’s when you two-- When you left?” Gerard didn’t want to talk about it, but was it unfair to ask Mikey? Mikey was even younger, and Brian didn’t want another crying fit if he could help it.

Mikey got a stoic look on his face. His knuckles were white where he was holding the mug of tea. “Things were bad at the house we were at,” he said flatly. “So we left.”

Brian felt like he had to try. “Bad?” he asked gently.

“Bad,” Mikey repeated, and stopped for a minute. He frowned. “Badder for Gerard,” he said, after a long pause. “First we just heard Mrs. Weller crying upstairs sometimes. Gerard said it wasn’t a big deal. And then… I don’t know, exactly, but sometimes Mr. Weller would yell and Gerard would get upset. He yelled at Gerard a lot, but he left me alone.”

Brian reached out hesitantly, putting a hand on Mikey’s knee again. Mikey didn’t react much. Brian was intensely grateful not to be having this conversation with Gerard. “Was she crying because he hit her?” Brian asked. It was surprisingly easy to keep his voice even, because he sort of felt like he was floating above the couch somewhere.

“I don’t know,” Mikey said. Brian started to relax. “But I know he hit Gerard sometimes. Gerard would wear shirts with sleeves all the time and he didn’t tell me, but I still saw because we had the same room.”

A wave of cold, terrifying fury swept across Brian. _Now the list has person number two. I think I’m going to start with him_. “But he never hit you?” His voice was amazingly calm.

Mikey shook his head and stared at his tea. “I think he… I think he was going to,” he said slowly. “He said I had an attitude like Gerard did, and he was gonna fix it. But then we left. Gerard said we had to.” He looked up at Brian for a second. “I’m glad we did.”

“You had a case worker named Claire, though, right?” Brian asked. The blood was pounding in his ears. “Why didn’t you tell her? No one’s allowed to hit a kid. They would have moved you.”

“ _No_ ,” said Mikey fiercely. He sounded abruptly like Gerard again. “They would have split us up. She said so. If we caused more trouble, we were gonna end up in different houses.”

And there it was; the rock and the hard place. Gerard had seen two options – getting beaten up by a drunken asshole or losing his brother – and created a third option of his own. Living on the streets hadn’t seemed impossible compared to those choices. Brian admired him. He had a weird urge to go upstairs and make sure Gerard was still there, sleeping. _And safe_.

He couldn’t wait to meet Claire. What the hell kind of person threatened a kid like that? Brian clenched and unclenched his fists a couple of times. There were a few things he wanted to say to her, and he couldn’t even think them with a kid as young as Mikey in the room.

“Gerard took good care of you guys,” Brian said. He couldn’t believe he didn’t sound angrier. He needed to call Bill or his mom to come over and watch them so he could go… What did you do to work through this kind of anger? Take a kick-boxing class? Start a bar fight? Become a caped vigilante and patrol the streets at night? Brian would buy the fucking cape if it would keep the boys safe.

“Yeah,” Mikey said. “Hey, when we go to the mall, can I go to the CD store? I like listening to the headphone things.”

“Sure,” Brian said. “Maybe we’ll get some art supplies for Gerard, too. I’d offer you my iPod, but all I have is--” _old people music_ “—rock bands you’ve never heard of.”

Mikey said “My favorite band is the Pixies.”

Brian blinked. “Dude. I _knew_ I liked you for a reason.” Mikey was now officially the coolest kid Brian had ever met. He might have been less afraid of talking to children if he’d known they could talk about stuff like music. Mikey, despite the weird silences and the total lack of ever smiling, was suddenly a lot more understandable. Brian made a mental list of all the ways he wanted to spoil them. They deserved a shitload of spoiling. “You know I sign bands and stuff for a living?” Brian asked. “Maybe you can listen to some demos with me, tell me what you think.”

Mikey’s eyes got kind of wide. “Really? That would be rad. Me and Gerard like lots of cool bands. Mr. Rossi had tons of CDs; Kiss and Bon Jovi and Black Flag and Queen and also musicals, which Gerard likes a lot but I’m not supposed to say so.” He shrugged. Big brothers were clearly unfathomable mysteries. “I think I want more tea.” He held out his mug hopefully.

“Right on,” Brian said.

Gerard got up an hour later and came downstairs, hair sticking up all over the place, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. He stared at them both for a second. “You should be in bed!” he protested, looking at Mikey.

“I’m on the couch,” Mikey said. “Plus, you were in the bed.”

“I—But—No!” Gerard spluttered. “You’re sick. Go back to bed, Mikey. What if you get worse again?”

“I feel a lot better,” Mikey sighed, but he was already grabbing all the blankets and wrapping them around himself like a giant antebellum dress. Brian considered helping him go upstairs, but watching him waddle with arms full of blanket was hilarious, and Brian wasn’t that good a person.

Gerard scuffed his foot on the floor for a second. “I didn’t mean to sleep so long,” he said. “You could have woken me up to watch Mikey.”

 _You needed it_ , Brian considered saying, but it sounded sort of condescending. He dismissed _Don’t worry about it_ , too, because clearly Gerard was already worried about it. Gerard was full of land mines and Brian had set off enough in the last day to be wary. He finally just shrugged. “I like hanging out with Mikey,” he said.

Gerard hesitated for another second and then said “Oh. I’m, uh, going to wash the dishes,” and disappeared in to the kitchen.

Brian was absolutely sure he’d heard wrong. “You’re what?” he said. “Why?”

“Can’t hear you!” Gerard yelled back. As lies went, it wasn’t his best. Brian was grateful that Gerard seemed to be a pretty bad liar. He’d figure out what this new phase signified eventually.

\ \ \ \ \

It turned out that Mikey not only needed glasses, he needed really thick glasses. Once they were on, he blinked a couple of times and said “Oh!” and promptly walked in to the wall. Gerard fell over laughing. “I was looking at all the stuff,” Mikey protested, standing back up with as much dignity as he could manage.

Brian managed to only laugh a little bit. “How about we head to a department store,” he said, biting his lip, “and figure out how to order a bed for Gerard? And then we can go get food or something.”

“I don’t need one,” Gerard said instantly.

“You can’t sleep on the couch forever.”

“I can. I don’t mind.” He was staring at his sneakers.

 _Okay, different, yet equally frustrating,_ Brian thought, and blew out a long breath. “Gerard. The guest room is big enough. We’ll move the couch out and the other bed in, and we’ll get you guys a dresser and it will be awesome. Okay?”

Gerard shrugged. “I’m okay on the couch,” he mumbled, nearly inaudibly.

Brian rolled his eyes. “Right,” he said. “A bed. A dresser. Clothes that don’t have wolves on them. C’mon.” He herded Mikey – who was rubbernecking at all the posters on the walls of the optometrist’s office – out the glass doors and through the mall.

It was the first time he’d been out in public with the boys, and Brian couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was going to point at him and accuse him of… Well, he wasn’t sure what, exactly. Kidnapping? Kid-harboring? What if they ran in to one of the families Mikey and Gerard had stayed with? What if they ran in to someone Brian knew? Brian couldn’t stop himself from looking suspiciously at the crowd all around them.

He tried to keep both boys in arms’ reach, which was hard, because Mikey wasn’t much for walking in straight lines, and he had a disturbing tendency to stop with no warning to stare at nothing special. Brian resisted the urge to steer Mikey by the back of his coat.

“Should Mikey be out?” Gerard asked quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “He’s still really sick.”

“Bill says he’s a lot better,” Brian reassured him. “He’s not coughing as much and he hasn’t had a fever in a while. He’s at least eighty percent better, Gerard.” He got where the worry was coming from, but Gerard was making himself crazy. “If he starts feeling bad again we’ll take him home. He needed glasses, right?”

“Hmm.” Gerard seemed really unhappy, but rather than yelling he just played with the sleeves of his sweater. “Okay,” he said, “and it’s really nice of you and he needs glasses and I should have _known_ that he needed glasses. It’s good that he’s getting better. He was sick for a long time before… Anyway, if he feels bad he won’t say anything, because Mikey’s like that.”

“Well,” Brian said, “then how about you keep an eye on him and let me know if he seems sick, okay?” And then he walked in to Mikey’s back again when the kid stopped dead to look at a display of magic eye posters. “Mikey. Jesus. _Walk_ when you’re walking and tell me if you’re stopping.”

“I don’t see anything,” Mikey frowned. He took off his glasses and squinted harder at the big magic eye picture in front of him.

Gerard glanced at it for half a second and shrugged, “Sailboat.” He looked around and his eyes got wide just for a moment before he went back to staring at his sneakers. Brian turned to see what he’d been looking at. Oh, Hot Topic. That seemed like a good fit for Gerard. He could get vampire t-shirts or something.

“You want to go in?” Brian offered.

Gerard shook his head and tugged on Mikey’s sleeve. “C’mon,” he said, “Brian has errands to run and you’re holding him up.” He dragged his brother away from the kiosk.

“I don’t think there’s anything in that stupid picture,” Mikey said stubbornly, but he let himself be pulled without a big fuss.

Brian said mildly “I’m not in a rush,” but Gerard was marching determinedly toward the next store. Brian appreciated the lack of recent screaming, but was nonplussed by the fact that now Gerard would barely look at him.

Brian’s phone rang. “Yo!” said Gabe. “Way!”

“Way what?” Brian asked, lost.

“Gerard and Mikey Way. They are way orphaned and way missing.” Gabe laughed at his own stupid joke, and Brian rolled his eyes. “They’ve been missing-presumed-dead since late October last year, and the family they were fostered with last is no longer allowed to take in kids, although there’s no official word on why.”

“I have a guess or two,” Brian said grimly.

“Parents are dead, no relatives, the good news is no one wants them,” Gabe went on blithely. When Brian got back on Monday he was going to punch Gabe in the face, just for fun. “Less good news is they’ve had seven placements in two years, which is apparently a really high number. The little one is maybe borderline autistic or something, never talks at all. The big one keeps being called ‘wild’ and ‘disrespectful’ and ‘unmanageable’ and at least one family recommended putting him in, like, reform school for toddlers to calm him down.”

“They aren’t – God. They’re both fine. People are idiots,” Brian grumbled.

“Okay, here’s some not-so-great news. It’s gonna take a lot of work to get you approved as a foster parent, dude. You should go join a church and get married real fast, because that seems to be the population they’re looking for. You don’t totally fit the definition of ‘stable home life,’ you know? Too much rock and roll.”

He’d sort of expected that, but refused to let it get to him. “I’ve dealt with more unlikely deals,” he said firmly. “You know me. I can talk anybody in to anything.”

“Well, I hope so, dude, because Claire is a bitch on the phone.”

“You talked to her already? _Jesus_ , Gabe.” Brian could just imagine what Gabe had said about him and the kids and the whole situation. That was going to take a lot of undoing. Maybe he should send her a pre-emptive gift basket.

“I may possibly have told her I was inquiring about the Way brothers and charmed her in to giving me a ton of information about them, which I just emailed you. She’s, uh, anxious to meet you.”

 _Fuck_. “Yeah, I just bet she is.”

“Apparently she kind of thinks you maybe kidnapped the kids and have had them for a while. Her phone number is in the email, and I didn’t give her your name yet, because I got the impression that if I did she’d show up with a SWAT team at your door. And let me tell you, dude, those guys do _not_ mess around.”

Brian reached out and grabbed Mikey’s sleeve just before the kid could wander in to the mall fountain. “I’ll call her later. Thanks. I owe you.”

“At this point I’d help you out just ‘cause I’m curious about how it’s all gonna come out,” Gabe said. “I’m thinking police stand-off on the 8 o’clock news, maybe an E! True Hollywood Story if I’m lucky.”

“Goodbye, Gabe.” Brian rolled his eyes again and shut the phone.

Gerard was watching him anxiously, but he looked away as soon as Brian hung up. “You guys want to go to the CD store or something while I do boring stuff?” Brian offered. “We can meet up in like half an hour.” He had a vague idea that by Gerard’s age he’d been left on his own at the mall for hours, and he sort of remembered that being fun. Now that he was an adult, he had no idea what he’d been doing or why he’d enjoyed it.

“I want to listen to the headphones,” Mikey announced.

Gerard looked uncertain and guilty. “We’ll get out of your way,” he said. Brian frowned and started to explain that they weren’t _in his way_ , he just thought they were getting bored, but Gerard was already ushering Mikey away. It would be a lot easier to pick a bed and stuff out if he didn’t have to argue with Gerard, anyway.

Brian wasn’t much of a shopper; he arranged for the store to deliver the first bed he saw that looked kid-sized, and picked up some sheets and pillows and a couple of packages of socks, because that was the kind of thing he assumed kids needed. He grabbed a couple more sweatshirts, too, and some jeans which were probably about the right size, not that it mattered. No matter which version of Gerard showed up tomorrow, angry or withdrawn, he’d refuse to wear them.

Brian had a few extra minutes so he went to the Apple store to get an iPod for Mikey. It was a pretty lame get-out-of-homelessness-free prize, frankly. He was a few minutes late, but he stopped to pick up a couple of sketch pads and some charcoals and watercolors and artsy things for Gerard.

There wasn’t anything he could buy that would make up for having been knocked around by a jerk who thought kids and wives were punching bags. Claire might have been ready to bring a SWAT team down on his head for finding and keeping the Way brothers, but he had a thing or two to tell her about threatening to split them up and leaving them with assholes for guardians. Brian was angry about nearly everything he’d heard from Mikey and Gerard, and he was happy to have someone to blame for it.

She was lucky he needed her help with ACS, frankly. Brian intended to charm her until she couldn’t see straight, no matter how old and cranky she was. And then, once he had Mikey and Gerard and a notarized piece of paper with all that official shit taken care of, he might just punch her in the face and see how she liked it. Normally he considered hitting women beyond the pale, but Brian was willing to make an exception for someone who terrorized kids and let them get smacked around.

So the only problem, actually, was that when he got back to the CD store, Gerard and Mikey weren’t there.

Brian walked down all the aisles three times, double-checking that Mikey wasn’t standing by any of the listening stations. There were lots of other kids in the store, but the Ways were definitely missing.

Where the hell could they have gone? Would they have gone to another store without telling him? Would they have left this section of the mall? Why would they have gone anywhere? Brian stood by the register gaping like an idiot for a minute, thoughts tumbling over each other without stopping to make any sense.

Something nibbled at the edge of his memory. What was it? Oh, right; _As soon as Mikey feels better, Gerard is going to bolt,_ his mother had said.

Just like that, Brian’s heart was pounding in his ears and his mouth was dry. _Oh, holy shit. I never –_ He couldn’t even finish the thought. He’d just spent an hour reassuring Gerard that Mikey was feeling a lot better. And Gerard had offered to get out of his way, which in Gerard’s crazy, crazy brain, could mean _anything_. Brian wanted to throw up.

Somehow after all the crying and the weird scene with the dishes this morning he hadn’t even considered Gerard running away again. But what if that was why Gerard had been behaving so strangely – so quiet, so acquiescent? Shit, he’d promised to pay Brian back, hadn’t he? And he’d washed the dishes and stopped arguing and the more Brian thought about it the more panicked he got. How the hell was he going to find them? How far could they have gotten in half an hour?

“Mikey! Gerard!” Brian hollered, turning around and bolting for the exit of the CD store. Other customers looked up, startled. Brian elbowed people out of the way.

The mall was so goddamn crowded. Two kids could have gone anywhere, and no one would have seen them. There were crowds everywhere, tons of children, and Brian couldn’t see his anywhere. Could he call mall cops? Would they care? Would they help him find kids who weren’t really his yet? Gerard hadn’t gotten caught in six months; what were the odds Brian could find him now?

“Have you seen – I’m looking for two kids, dark hair, about this – Shit, have you seen two kids?” People were staring at him like he was crazy. He was acting crazy, shoving through the crowds of adults, looking for dark hair and grey sweatshirts and cursing himself up and down under his breath. What the hell had he been thinking? _I should have put them on a leash. I should have put a tracking chip in Gerard’s neck. I should have kept Mikey home. I should have—_

He ran down the center of the mall, past the hat kiosk and the turn-your-photo-into-a-mug booth and the fountain Mikey had almost walked in to not an hour earlier. How could there be so many people, and none of them the only ones he wanted to see? Brian didn’t remember feeling this fucking terrified before in his life, ever. His fingers were numb and tingly, and his lungs weren’t working right.

There were dark-haired kids all over the mall, but they all seemed to be alone or else in big groups. There were brothers, but they weren’t the right heights, or they were with other kids. “Damn it!” Brian yelled. If he ran too quickly he’d miss them. If he slowed down, they could be _anywhere_. “Gerard!”

“Brian?”

Brian stopped so short he tripped over his own feet and slammed in to a jewelry kiosk. “Ow, shit,” he mumbled, catching himself painfully against the glass case. He whipped around.

Gerard was holding Mikey’s hand, looking mildly puzzled. _They’re not dead, or missing, or running away, or kidnapped, or murdered, or hiding or—_ Brian couldn’t help himself, he grabbed Gerard by the arm and stood there, fighting for breath, totally wild-eyed.

“Holy shit, dude,” said Gerard. “Are you okay?”

“I thought you were gone!” Brian gasped. “I thought – Jesus _Christ_ , Gerard, I thought you’d run away again.” He tried to force his heart to stop banging against his ribs, but he could barely get his breath back.

Gerard and Mikey shared a he’s-totally-crazy look. “No,” said Gerard slowly. “You wanted us to stay, I… thought?”

“Fuck. Yes! But you weren’t in the store, and—“

“Our mom had that necklace,” said Mikey, pointing. “I saw it earlier. We just came out to look.”

The bored teenager working the jewelry kiosk yawned and snapped his gum. “You wanna see it, mister?” he asked.

“No, thank you,” Gerard replied politely.

Brian either wanted to hug Gerard until they both died of embarrassment or beat the kid to death with his shoe. He honestly wasn’t sure which. “I fucking thought you were gone,” he managed. “You can’t – You can’t wander off. Ever. Ever!” His hand on Gerard’s arm tightened and Gerard flinched. _Shit shit shit._ Brian pulled his hand back like he’d been burned. That was the last fucking thing Gerard needed. “I’m sorry. You just scared me.”

“We scared you?” Gerard asked doubtfully. He looked at Mikey again. Mikey shrugged. “Okay,” Gerard said, clearly unsure how to respond. “I’m sorry?”

“Just don’t disappear,” Brian said. “Don’t wander off. Don’t go away. Okay?”

“We won’t,” Mikey promised.

It took a second, and Gerard looked totally puzzled, but he nodded. “If you want us—I mean, we’ll stay. If you want. You were _worried_? It was only a little while,” he added incredulously.

“I was worried. I was fucking terrified.” Brian’s hands were shaking a little bit, and now that the adrenaline had worn off he wanted to lie down on the floor of the mall and close his eyes for an hour or two. He’d never felt this irrational before. He had to call his mother immediately and apologize for every shitty thing he’d ever done. “Can we go home now, please?”

If Gerard used the sketch pad to make a giant sign that said ‘BRIAN SCHECHTER IS TOTALLY NUTS’ it wouldn’t have been more obvious than the expression on his face. Still, he shrugged. “Okay. I think Mikey’s tired, right?”

“No. Oh, sure, I mean. I’m tired.” Mikey coughed unconvincingly. After a second it turned in to an actual cough, distracting Gerard.

Wonderful. Now they felt like they had to lie to make him feel better. That had not been part of Brian’s plan. “Home,” said Brian firmly, and if he held on to the back of Mikey’s hood while they walked out to the car, Gerard didn’t say anything.

\ \ \ \ \ \

Brian had expected Claire to be some kind of old dragon lady, maybe half-deaf in one ear, possibly wearing a sweatshirt with a giant apple on it. If she had one foot in the grave he could understand her total lack of interest in the welfare of her charges. Instead she was wearing a suit jacket and a lot of black, and her hair was back in a severe bun. It didn’t do much to hide the fact that she was younger than he was, or that she was kind of hot.

Claire folded her arms and pursed her lips. “Where are they?” she asked for the third time. She sat ramrod straight, briefcase on the table, knuckles white.

“You’re sure you don’t want a coffee or something?” Brian asked, trying for charming. He was normally good at charming pretty women. Plus, he wasn’t sure ‘they’re at home with my friend the doctor teaching them to play Magic: The Gathering’ was a great answer.

“Those boys have been missing for months, and the only reason I don’t have the police with me right now is because you said they went to you voluntarily. But I assure you, Mr. Schechter, if you don’t tell me where they are in the next thirty seconds I will have your ass in jail so fast your head will spin.” She smiled. It wasn’t friendly. “Got it?”

She was a tiny bit scary, and maybe a little bit taller than Brian was. Brian crossed his arms, too, and leaned back. The café had seemed like a nice, neutral place to meet, but now it was a little public for the business deal he was about to try and make. “They’re at my house. Frankly, I don’t think you have much of a leg to stand on here,” he said, smiling nastily right back at her. “They ran away from you. Some maniac was using Gerard as a punching bag and they were afraid to call for help. I bet that’s exactly the performance review you want, huh?”

She went a little pale, but she didn’t flinch. “They knew they could call me,” she said. “Of _course_ they could have called me.”

“That’s not what Mikey said,” Brian said flatly. “He said you told them they’d get split up if they told you what was going on. You said they were too much _trouble_. Well, they aren’t too much trouble for me, and you aren’t splitting them up.”

“I—That isn’t what I said!” she spluttered. She’d cracked first; Brian relaxed a little bit. “There aren’t many families that want kids as old as they are, and there are even fewer who want two. Gerard was a problem in placement after placement, and I was running out of options. I just wanted them to _try_ a little harder.”

Brian knew exactly what she meant, but he refused to have any sympathy at all. “That’s not what they heard,” Brian said coldly. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re the reason those two kids were living in a warehouse when I met them. You’re the reason Mikey almost died.” It was a slight exaggeration, sure, but it was still fair game. She flinched, and Brian would normally have felt guilty. The image of Gerard being slapped around by a drunk did a lot to bolster his anger.

“They’re okay?” Claire asked, dropping a lot of her edge. “Mikey’s not – He’s okay?”

“He’s fine. I took him to the doctor. He needed glasses, too, by the way.”

Claire rallied, working to keep her voice even and her face straight. “And Gerard?”

“Is great.” _As long as ‘great’ means crazy,_ Brian added. Gerard had gotten up at the crack of dawn to do the dishes again. Then he’d offered to run laundry. Brian knew it was indicative of something, but he had no idea what. Mikey refused to move from in front of the computer, where he was adding songs to his iPod. He hadn’t even looked up when Gerard tried to drag him downstairs for breakfast. “He drew a bunch of elves and trolls this morning, but they looked pretty happy. Mikey says they’re friendly.”

Claire’s mouth dropped open. “Mikey told you that,” she said in a slightly strangled voice. “Gerard – He told you about what Gerard was _drawing_? You don’t happen to have it with you, do you?” Her reaction was really weird, but Brian was willing to go with it, if it would get her to help him.

Brian fumbled through his wallet. He’d stuck something in there – another drawing of a unicorn for Mikey, this time with a monkey riding on it. Brian hadn’t asked why. “Uh. Sure. So they’re fine. I want them, they want to stay, I don’t care how old they are. If you really have their best interests in mind, you’ll help me.”

Claire stared at the picture for a long minute. “I was so worried about them,” she said, and her voice broke. Brian felt a twinge of sympathy, because only yesterday he’d been scared out of his mind that they were gone. Not enough sympathy to stop pressing her, however. He wasn’t above sending Gabe out to find the dirt on her, but it wouldn’t feel very good. Her reaction was helping him believe that she wanted what was best for Mikey and Gerard. He just had to convince her that he was it. Claire looked up at him. “I looked for them for _weeks_ after they vanished. I thought they were – They’re really okay? They’re really at your house?”

“They’ve been there all week. They’re healthy and happy and safe.” _Right now they are learning how to make mages attack elves or some shit._ Brian gave her his big, toothy, you-know-you-want-this-contract smile. “I’m here to make sure they stay that way, and that they stay with me.”

The entire tone of the conversation had shifted. All the starch had gone out of Claire’s back, but her lips were still tight as she looked back down at Gerard’s drawing. “Okay. I’ll help you,” she said finally. She flipped open her briefcase.

Brian was so relieved that he couldn’t process what she’d said for a minute. “I—Really? Awesome. This is totally the right thing to do. It’s the right thing for the kids.” He hadn’t expected her to crack that quickly, and his plan – give her the hard sell, threaten her if he had to, manipulate her like a bastard – was hard to let go of so quickly.

Claire wasn’t really listening. She flipped through a stack of papers and files. She pulled out a picture of Mikey and Gerard that had to be a couple of years old – Mikey was sitting on Gerard’s lap in some mall photo where they both had slicked-down hair and big pasted-on smiles. “It’s going to take a lot of work, and they may have to go back to the state for a little while so we can get you approved. But if you’re willing to make this your priority and spend a lot of time on it, I think we can get it done. Have you ever been arrested? Ever sold drugs, bought drugs, or taken drugs? Tell me no, or you might as well give this up right now.”

“Uh, one arrest in college, drunk and disorderly,” Brian said. “Nothing since then.” Plenty of close calls with various bands at various parties, but no actual arrests. Brian spent a lot more time keeping the talent out of jail, actually. “No drugs.” _No drugs anymore, at least_ , he added to himself.

“Okay. Are you married? How’s your income? Can you afford two kids?” She was taking notes all over a legal pad and flipping through a bunch of papers with her other hand.

Brian’s income was more than comfortable, even for a family, and he gave her a rough number, which made her nod. She didn’t smile, exactly, but it felt like a hurdle had been cleared. She filled a couple of boxes in, and then handed him the papers. “Great. You’re going to fill these papers out, so I can start running background checks on you. Am I going to find anything that makes you unfit to parent?”

 _Will the background check tell you that I’ve always claimed not to like children, and that I’ve dumped every girlfriend who mentioned them? Probably not._ “Should be clean,” he said, running through all the worst things he’d ever done. They mostly involved being thoughtless to girlfriends and disappointing his mother by not coming home for holidays. There were some shady business deals, and a couple of vacations that weren’t going in any family scrap books, but nothing that was on record and would be damaging.

Claire pursed her lips again. “We’ll see. If anyone asks, you filled this all out years ago, and you’ve just been waiting for approval.” She made a few more notes. “And I’ll need to talk to Gerard and Mikey. I need to see your house, the arrangements you’ve made for them, everything. I need to ask them about you, I need character references, I need—“

“Great,” Brian said, cutting her off. “Anything you need, just give me a list. I took this week off from work to make sure the kids were okay, and I can take more days if I need to. The sooner this gets done the better.”

Claire nodded and made a note. “Your job is going to have to be pretty flexible.” She typed something in to her Blackberry and frowned. “Have you thought about what you’ll do if they get sick at school? Can you go pick them up? What will they do during summer vacations? Are you willing to put aside money for a college fund? Clothing, insurance, tutors--”

“I’ve got it under control,” Brian said. She was making his palms sweat. He tugged at the collar of his shirt. “So, not to sound ungrateful, but… Why are you so willing to help?” He’d really expected a lot more of a fight. He didn’t _want_ to fight her anymore, but he couldn’t help being a little suspicious. He’d decided not to punch her in the face. A good guilt trip or two were still in order, though.

Claire shrugged. “Mikey told you about Gerard’s drawings,” she said, “and Gerard is drawing unicorns.”

Brian didn’t want to sound like an idiot, but he was lost. “Can you be a little clearer?” he asked. “I’m thrilled you get that I’m a good option for them. But--”

“After their parents died, Mikey stopped talking,” Claire said flatly. “He certainly never talks to strangers. Only to Gerard, and once in a while to me. They stayed with families for months who thought he was mute.”

 _Holy shit._ “But he’s such an awesome kid,” Brian objected. “We talked about Bowie this morning and he--”

“Gerard stopped drawing. Last time I saw him he said – He said he couldn’t, anymore. He said he didn’t want to.” She handed him back the unicorn-monkey picture. “If he’s drawing and showing you, and Mikey’s talking to you, you must be… I’d have thought you were just some creep, but the kids’ actions say otherwise.”

Brian had to stop himself from grinning. He was happy and proud and a little embarrassed all at once. “They trust me,” he said firmly. “And I told them they could stay. I have to make this happen. I don’t think they can handle a lot more disappointments.”

Claire pursed her lips and nodded. “I hope you like paperwork and frustration,” she said. “You’d better really mean this.”

“I do,” Brian promised, and grabbed a pen.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fucked around with Frank’s age, relative to Gerard and Mikey for plot purposes. Sorry, Frank.

“Are you sure you should be doing that by yourself?” Gerard asked. He was hovering right over Brian’s shoulder, biting his lip.

Brian pulled the wrench again, and the muscles in his back screamed in protest. _Oh my god, it’s true; kids make you old_. Gerard made a tsk-ing noise.

“Seriously, I don’t think that part goes there,” Gerard said. “I’m pretty sure all the legs are supposed to match.”

Brian straightened up. His spine cracked back in to place. “Do you want to do this?” he demanded, offering the wrench. “Here. You put it all together. Go ahead.”

He was sweaty and tired and grumpy, mostly because he knew Gerard was right; something about bed assembly was escaping him. Three of the legs seemed just fine, but the fourth one refused to go on, and it was making everything rock and the screws wouldn’t go in.

Gerard looked uncertainly at the wrench. “Okay,” he said gamely. “I’ll do it. I mean, I’ll try. I don’t really need it anyway, but I’m sure I can figure it out. Why don’t you go downstairs and relax--”

Brian gritted his teeth. He knew Gerard wasn’t thinking he was too old and decrepit to put a bed together, but that was how it sounded. “How about you get the directions, and we’ll work this out together,” he grumped. _It’s not his fault I can’t figure it out. I have to remember that._

Gerard had been hovering around the whole bed-making operation since the boxes had arrived, perched on Mikey’s bed and making fatalistic pronouncements like “I think this is too hard,” and “We’re never going to figure this out.” Brian was hot and sweaty and he’d slammed his fingers between two of the boards once already, and he really could have used a little less doom and gloom.

“We already looked at the directions,” Gerard pointed out. “Maybe we should just send it back.”

“We’re not sending your bed back!”

“But I really don’t need—”

“Gerard!” Brian half-yelled. Gerard fell silent, eyes big. “Gerard,” Brian repeated, forcing himself to speak more softly. “That is the tenth time you’ve told me you don’t need the bed. I appreciate the thought, dude, I do, but it’s here and it’s paid for and you’re going to goddamn sleep in it tonight, okay? Offering to send it back is not helpful.”

Gerard was sitting cross-legged, picking intently at the laces on his sneakers. “Right, I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I can go downstairs and watch TV or something. I know it’s your last day of vacation and you’re spending it putting a bed together that I don’t n—That uh, you bought. I mean, I can get out of your way, like Mikey is. I’m sorry.”

“Mikey is in a music coma or something,” Brian said. “He hasn’t said a word all day.”

“He’s excited to have headphones,” Gerard shrugged, not looking up. “He had a DiscMan. Before.”

It would have been nice, honestly, to kick Gerard out of the room and fuck up the bed without any witnesses, but clearly all Gerard wanted to do was help. Sure, he was the least helpful assistant Brian had ever had – and that included the Ross kid, who’d been high the whole time – but he was trying. Brian wanted to give him credit for that.

Of course, he also wanted a beer, and a fully-assembled bed, and maybe ten minutes without Gerard looking worried and hovering over his shoulder. He almost wanted the old Gerard back, the one who shut himself in the bedroom and yelled all the time. At least that Gerard could be ignored. This Gerard was wearing the wolf sweatshirt and kept asking if Brian wanted anything. It was totally creepy.

“Hand me the directions,” Brian ordered.

Gerard scrambled for the sheet. It had a happy-faced man holding a tool that might have been a wrench, or a screwdriver, or a really deformed banana, attaching screws that looked nothing like the screws Brian was holding. “I think it’s the long ones,” Gerard said. “I mean, I think they were supposed to go in the top part. I think you’re out of the short ones now. I can go get more.”

“What if we just jam it in and then pretend it’s in right?” Brian sighed. “I don’t want to start all over again.”

“I’m sorry,” Gerard said immediately. “You don’t have to--”

“Gerard!” It took a lot of effort to drop his voice, but Brian forced himself, because the kid looked half-terrified. “That’s eleven. You _have_ to stop saying that.”

“I’m sorry,” Gerard repeated automatically. “I can stop saying it. I’ll stop. Really. Do you want me to go get some more screws, because I can go get--”

“ _No_ ,” Brian said. “Here’s what I want. I want you to stop telling me you don’t need this bed. I want you to stop apologizing every thirty seconds. You are driving me _crazy_.”

“I’m _sorry_ ,” Gerard said. Brian ground his teeth. “I’m just – I wanted to – I’m sorry!” He looked so fucking miserable and defeated that Brian had to relent. He couldn’t let Gerard stay in the room or he was going to lose his shit at the kid, and it wasn’t Gerard’s fault that he was annoying. He was so desperately trying to help.

Brian pointed to the door. “I changed my mind. Go somewhere with Mikey. Go do something.”

Gerard jumped to his feet. “I can take him to the park on the corner,” he said. “We haven’t been outside since—I mean, fresh air is good for us and we’ll be out of your hair.”

 _Stop quoting every other asshole you’ve lived with_ , Brian ordered him silently, but it wasn’t the kind of thing he could say out loud. The kid looked so happy to have something to do. “Fine,” Brian said. “Make sure Mikey’s warm enough. Hats, scarves, coats, mittens, the whole nine yards. And I want you guys back in half an hour for dinner.”

“Okay!” Gerard said. He was already halfway down the stairs, hollering for his brother.

Brian banged his head gently against the wall for a minute.

He _got_ it. Okay? He understood. Gerard had heard ‘I want you to stay here with me’ as ‘This is a trial period and if you fuck it up I’m sending you back to the people who made you miserable.’ Brian just didn’t know how to get him to _stop_.

So far Brian hadn’t come up with a way to say “No, really; I want you to stay even if you’re a pain in the ass.” He was pretty sure if he phrased it like that it would just freak Gerard out worse. Claire planned on stopping by later, and Brian was secretly glad; she had to have a degree in child psychology, or at the very least a clue about how to handle kids. Brian wanted to do the right thing, but he had no idea what that was. He didn’t want to make Gerard worse.

If ‘worse’ was even possible. Brian was terrified of what new horrors might await him. Gerard had every reason to think that adults couldn’t be trusted and safe places were temporary. If being super-helpful (or, “super helpful,” honestly) wasn’t enough, what would Gerard try next? He’d offered to pay Brian back a couple of times. Brian had a horrifying vision of Gerard out stealing wallets again, this time to get cash for room and board.

 _Oh my god, that kid_ , Brian thought miserably. _Please let Claire know what to say_.

The door slammed as the kids ran out. For the first time in a week Brian was totally, blissfully alone in his house. He could walk around in his underwear or crack open a beer or turn on some porn or swear at the top of his lungs. Brian considered doing all of those things for a minute, and then turned grimly back to the bed.

“You’re going down, you son of a bitch,” he promised it, and picked up the wrench.

It wasn’t half an hour, it was more like twenty minutes – or two screws, three banged fingers and a missing board that turned out to be upside down – later when the front door slammed open again.

“Brian!” Mikey hollered. “Brian!”

He’d never, ever heard Mikey yell before. Brian stood up too fast and smacked himself against the bed frame. Swearing, Brian ran out and down the stairs. Mikey was standing at the bottom, bundled up in at least three scarves under his jacket. His cheeks were pink from cold. “What? Fuck! Are you okay? Is Gerard okay?” _Please don’t let anyone have been kidnapped or hit by a car,_ Brian pleaded silently. He couldn’t handle being a parent – every time someone screamed he found himself jumping to the worst possible conclusion. How did the parents of babies handle it? Did they lose their minds every time the kid cried?

“Gerard got punched in the face!” Mikey said. He sounded a lot more thrilled than worried.

“He _what_?” Brian’s heart leapt in to his throat. Claire was coming by in a little while.

Mikey nodded excitedly. “There’s blood _everywhere_. It’s all over his face! It’s pretty cool.”

“It’s not cool!” Brian protested, grabbing for his coat. He cycled through all the reasons someone might have punched Gerard – and they were legion – from the very tame to the unspeakable. He might have gotten in a bigger kid’s way. He might have been caught stealing. He might have been grabbed by a pedophile. “Who punched Gerard? Why did someone punch Gerard? Where is Gerard, Mikey?”

“He’s coming!” Mikey promised. He was bouncing up and down. “We were on the playground and there was another kid and then these big kids were picking on him and Gee said ‘You stop it’ and they said ‘Or what?’ and Gee said ‘Or else’ and then they didn’t stop and they shoved him and then they punched him in the face!”

Who knew Mikey could sound so enthralled? Or say so many words in a row? Brian stared at him. _It’s just a playground brawl. Gerard’s fine. Everything is fine. Probably._ “Oh,” said Brian. “Well where the hell is he?”

“He’s _coming_ ,” Mikey said again. He danced from foot to foot. “It was _awesome_. Bang, right in the nose!”

“Did Gerard at least hit them back?” Brian asked, sticking his head out the door. There were a couple of kids limping toward the house; he hoped one of them was Gerard.

Mikey scrunched up his nose and started unwinding scarves. His glasses had totally fogged up. “Gee’s not a very good hitter,” he said. “He would, I think. Hit people. But he kind of… can’t.”

“Gerard!” Brian yelled. One of the kids on the sidewalk looked up. “Get in here so I can make sure you’re okay!”

“It’s gruesome,” Mikey said, totally delighted. He’d managed to get stuck taking his coat off, caught somehow between the scarves and the zipper. “He looks like he was in a war.”

 _Fabulous. Wonderful. Awesome_. Brian folded his arms and waited impatiently while Gerard and the kid walking with him straggled up the steps.

Gerard was, in fact, pretty bloody. The punch had caught him right in the nose, and there were two streams of drying blood dripping across his mouth and down his chin. If he really liked drawing vampires he should go and get a good look at himself in the mirror. His cheeks were flushed, too, with some combination of cold air and adrenaline. Blood was all across his jacket – the new one Brian’s mother had bought. She was going to die when she saw it. There was more blood on his scarf and on his mittens.

The kid with Gerard was even tinier than Mikey. Brian couldn’t imagine anyone menacing him on the playground; it would be like kicking a puppy. His coat was pretty worn and his fingerless gloves were patched a couple of times. When he pulled off his hat Brian saw light brown hair curling from static and eyebrows that had been creatively razored in to shapes.

Gerard was grinning when he walked in. “—Totally ran away. They won’t be back, either, because that kid’s mom saw him and he’s scared of her, I think. But I kind of think we should set a trap or something, in case they comes back, so like, we put a rope under a tree with candy in it or something and when they step in it they get – Um. Brian. Hi.” His face went from excited to guilty in about half a heartbeat. “Nothing happened.”

 _Nothing my ass._ Gerard really needed to work on his lying skills.

“Hi,” said the smallest kid in the world. “I’m Frank!” He held out his hand seriously for Brian to shake.

Brian stared at him for a second and then, with matching seriousness, shook Frank’s hand. “Hi,” he said. “Brian.”

“Gerard here totally saved me from these kids who’ve been bugging me for weeks,” said Frank.

“If by ‘saved’ you mean ‘got hit in the face,’” said Mikey, lost somewhere in a sea of sweaters and scarves. Brian made a mental note that when he told Gerard to put his brother in ‘warm enough’ clothes, Gerard heard ‘every single thing he owns.’

Frank giggled. It was totally adorable, and Brian, who should have been pissed, found himself smiling. “They left me alone,” Frank said, “so I think it counts. It counts, right?” he asked Gerard.

“Um,” said Gerard again, looking at his sneakers. He risked a look at Brian. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just... I couldn’t not do something.”

Brian pushed the door shut. “Okay,” he said. “I get that. But why didn’t you _duck_?” He wouldn’t have pegged Gerard for much of a fighter, but most kids who couldn’t fight were smart enough not to get in to a fight in the first place. Gerard was clearly smart. He apparently just wasn’t great with logic and consequences.

“I did!” Gerard protested. He took off his coat and scarf and then started folding all of Mikey’s stuff, frowning. “I mean, I started to. He was kind of fast.”

“And huge!” said Frank. “Really, really huge!” He took off his coat and dropped it on the floor, like a normal kid. Without a layer of fleece he was even tinier. Brian wondered idly if Frank was maybe half-elf.

“How about next time you fight someone you pick someone smaller than you?” Brian suggested, picking up Frank’s coat.

Gerard was horrified. “I can’t do _that_ ,” he protested. “I can’t hit someone smaller than me!”

“You can’t hit anyone at all,” Mikey muttered, flopping on the couch. Apparently he was over Gerard’s heroism. Frank burst in to giggles again.

“Fighting is a last resort,” Gerard said, all injured dignity. “I don’t think violence can be condoned, ever.”

“Unless it’s Batman,” Frank said thoughtfully. Gerard stared at him. Little cartoon hearts should have appeared over his head. “Batman kicks _ass_ when people deserve it.”

“Neither of you is Batman,” Brian said firmly. Gerard might be making a pretty good run at an over-earnest Robin, though. “Are you guys cold? Do you want some hot chocolate or anything?”

“Yes, please,” said Frank politely, dropping on to the couch next to Mikey.

Gerard realized, suddenly, that he was back in the house and Brian was watching him. Brian could see the exact moment the panic returned. “Is it okay if Frank’s here?” he asked anxiously. “We would have asked. Frank didn’t want to stay at the playground because those kids could come back and I said it was okay if he came here, but I didn’t think to ask you and I should have, I’m sorry--”

“Frank,” said Brian, “is there someone you should call? You’re welcome to stay, but I don’t anyone looking for you and worrying.” God knew he’d had enough experience with that in the last couple of days.

“Okay,” said Frank cheerfully. He sneezed a couple of times. “I just got over pneumonia,” he added, as if this was a normal conversation starter, “and my mom thinks I’m in my room right now. I should probably call.”

“Plus,” Mikey added thoughtfully, “Gerard should wash all that blood off his face.”

Oh god, right. “Yeah, go upstairs and do that, okay?” Brian said. “It’s pretty gross.”

“No,” Mikey said. “I meant because Claire is in the driveway.”

Brian’s stomach flopped right over. “She’s _what_?” he demanded. He leaned over to look out the window.

Mikey was right, of course. There was Claire, all in black again, walking briskly toward the house with her briefcase and pursed-lips. And somehow, in the intervening second, Mikey was already up and moving toward the door.

“Mikey, wait--” Brian started, as the door opened.

“Hi, Claire,” Mikey said.

It wasn’t exactly an enthusiastic greeting, but it didn’t have to be; Claire’s eyes widened and her expression softened immeasurably. “Mikey,” she said. “Hi, Mikey. Oh, I missed you.”

She probably wanted a hug; Mikey clearly wasn’t much of a hugger. He seemed happy enough to see her, but he just nodded and headed back to the couch. He was possibly a little bit annoyed with her the way Brian had planned to be. Mikey was, after all, as fiercely protective of Gerard as Gerard was of him.

“Hi,” said Frank brightly, “I’m Frank.” He bounced to his feet and held out his hand to shake.

Claire looked a little startled. She threw Brian a quick glance, but shook Frank’s hand gravely. “I’m Claire,” she said. “It’s nice to meet you. And you are…”

“Oh, I’m Gerard’s new friend,” Frank said confidently. “And Mikey’s, too. We met on the playground when Gerard defended my virtue.”

Brian choked. “He didn’t,” he assured Claire quickly.

“Is this your dad’s, uh, girlfriend?” Frank asked, frowning a little.

Gerard sort of exploded “He’s not our _dad_ and she’s not his _girlfriend_ , Frank!” His arms were crossed and, combined with the blood on his face, it looked pretty ferocious. Unfortunately it brought Claire’s attention to Gerard, and her eyes went wide as her mouth dropped open.

“Gerard,” she gasped. “Oh my god.”

Gerard stepped sideways so that he was a little bit more behind Brian, which was kind of nice, after that outburst, but also terrible, because it made Claire turn her glare on him. Brian held up his hands quickly. “It looks a lot worse than it is,” he said quickly, hoping it was true. “Someone was bothering Frank on the playground, and Gerard, uh, intervened.”

“It was _awesome_ ,” Mikey assured Claire. “Right until they hit him.”

Frank opened his mouth. “These big kids have been bothering me for a long time and Gerard was all like ‘Don’t do that’ and they were like ‘Why?’ and Gerard was like ‘Because’ and then they shoved me and he shoved them back and then they hit him but he was so amazing. Gerard is kick-ass.” If Frank had been a cartoon character – and he wasn’t that far off – his eyes would have been shaped like hearts. Both boys were both clearly falling in some kind of middle-school love. Brian had never really seen Gerard interact with anyone he actually liked besides Mikey, and was astonished to see the kid’s face starting to turn red.

“I just had to,” Gerard mumbled. “I’m gonna go wash my face off.” He turned and fled upstairs.

Brian didn’t miss the way Mikey rolled his eyes.

He also didn’t miss the killer frigid look Claire was giving him. “This is unacceptable--” she started. Brian winced.

“I know,” he said. “It just happened, seriously, five minutes ago. Nothing like it has ever happened before.” _Six whole days I’ve known them. Maybe this is normal for Gerard?_ He doubted it; kids who got in to a lot of fights were probably more coordinated than Gerard seemed to be.

“I’m going to talk to Mikey,” Claire said coldly. “Do you mind leaving the room?”

Frank was fascinated. He dragged himself away from watching them with an obvious effort. “I’m going to go say goodbye to Gerard and then walk home,” he said. “It was a pleasure to meet you, uh, Claire.” He vanished upstairs.

“We’ll talk later,” Claire promised, eyes flashing.

Brian stifled a sigh.

\ \ \ \ \ \

“Okay, so, that could have gone better,” Brian said. Claire was thrilled Gerard was making friends, for pretty much the first time since he’d been orphaned. Everything else, however, was wrong.

Gerard stared at a pattern he was tracing on the kitchen counter. “She asked if we liked it here. We said yes. She asked if we felt safe. We said yes!”

“Right, but she asked me if I was encouraging you to get in fights, Gerard.”

“But you’re not.”

“But it kind of looks like I am.”

Mikey piped up suddenly “Can Frank come over tomorrow, too? I like Frank.”

“Frank,” Brian said, “has to go to school tomorrow. Which brings up something else.”

“You have to go back to work tomorrow,” Gerard sighed. “Yeah, we know. It’s cool. You don’t need to babysit us all the time every day. I can watch Mikey.”

It actually wasn’t where Brian had been going with this conversation. “Absolutely not,” he said firmly. “My mom is coming over tomorrow to watch you guys, and then I’m going to have to find someone who can be here every day.”

“Will she make soup?” Mikey asked.

Gerard scowled quietly to himself. “We don’t need to bother anyone,” he mumbled. “You’re acting like we’re babies.”

 _You are babies_ , Brian wanted to point out. _You’re just old enough to be starting to want to be left alone—you shouldn’t have been alone for a year. You shouldn’t have been emotionally alone for years before that._ Gerard wasn’t going to hear that, however. “Someone’s going to stay with you,” Brian repeated instead. “Which brings me to my second point. You guys have missed a year of school.”

Gerard groaned and dropped his head against the counter. “C’mon,” he said. “Briiiiiian.”

“It’s too late to stick you back in school this year, but it’s not too late to get you a tutor and help you catch up. That way in September--”

Gerard’s groan got more dramatic and he banged his hand against the counter a couple of times.

“—you can both be in the grade you’re supposed to be in. Gerard, you’ll be starting high school, right? Ninth grade? We can figure out a good school for you to go to around here.”

“I’m not going without Mikey,” Gerard said to the table.

“So I don’t have to do fifth grade again?” Mikey asked. He considered. “I liked the hamster, though.”

Gerard looked up. His eyes were huge and pleading. “Brian,” he said. “School is a disaster of, of, of epic proportions. It’s awful. It’s terrible. It’s the worst thing in my life ever. You can’t make me go back there.”

He was pretty good at begging, but Brian had hated school, too, and he’d gotten through it. Plus, he suspected it wasn’t actually the worst thing in Gerard’s life ever. He could think of at least two things worse than the worst high-school bully off the top of his head. “You have to go to school,” he said. “That’s not negotiable.”

“Right, fine, but _tutors_?” Gerard asked. “I can read! I’m fine. Come onnnnnnnnnn.”

“I’m sure you read beautifully. How are your math skills?”

Gerard dropped his head back down on the counter. “Brian,” he said. “Why? I thought you said you _liked_ us.”

“That’s not fair,” Brian replied. He felt a little wounded. “You have to catch up.”

Mikey said “Is it just math? Or other stuff, too?”

Brian had no idea. He had a vague idea they’d need some kind of catch-up, but hadn’t really worried about it until Claire had brought it up with a big frown. She’d made it clear that it was a priority, along with fixing Gerard’s bed – god help him – and getting them both enrolled in school for September, which he couldn’t do until the fostering paperwork started to go through. The fact that he hadn’t even looked at local schools had made her frown and make a noise like Marge Simpson. “Everything,” Brian said, waving his hand. “You missed a year of… Stuff.” What the hell did kids learn in fifth grade? How to watch hamsters, apparently.

“But I already _know_ all the stuff that’s important and I don’t care about the rest of it!” Gerard protested.

Why was he only apologetic and cooperative when it didn’t matter? “It’s not negotiable,” Brian said again, because that was what his mother said when he got whiney.

“It’s cool,” Mikey assured him.

Gerard did not look so sure. He mumbled something inaudible in to his hands.

“You have to go back to school,” Brian said, “so you have to get caught up. Get it?”

“Got it,” Gerard sighed.

“Good.”

That was the end of the argument, for a while at least. Gerard watched tv sulkily with Mikey until he forgot he was sulking and Gladiator came on. He got distracted explaining to Mikey about swords and Romans and lions and somewhere in between making up stories about Christians getting their heads eaten off by lions and explaining chariot racing, Brian went back upstairs to finish the bed.

It clearly couldn’t be the end of the discussion, however, because Brian really did have to go back to work, and someone had to stay with them. Brian got up the next morning and put on a button-up shirt and tie for the first time in a week. It felt kind of weird.

Gerard got up early, too, washing the dishes before Brian’s mother showed up. She was pleasantly surprised, although she looked suspicious. She knew kids, and voluntary dish-washing wasn’t normal. Brian shrugged and promised to talk to her about it more when he got home. Apparently Claire hadn’t fixed that yet. Jeanne patted his head and bustled upstairs to check on Mikey. Brian sighed. Jeanne was retired, but she couldn’t spend all day every day with kids who weren’t even her real grandchildren. Brian knew that. He just couldn’t imagine who else could handle them. No retiree was going to have the energy to chase them around all day and keep up with Gerard. They were too old for day care. Bill, tragically, had a job. Brian, also tragically, loved his job and had missed it a little bit.

It was strange being out of the house and away from Mikey and Gerard. Brian went to his desk and made a few phone calls, checked in with a few tour managers, double checked a few contracts. He found Gabe and thanked him profusely for helping out and then smacked him upside the head for calling Claire. He googled foster care and read a couple of not especially helpful PDF files on becoming a foster parent.

By lunch time he was going crazy. He called home.

“They’re fine,” his mother said. “They’re reading.”

“What are they reading?” Brian asked suspiciously.

“Gerard is reading a comic book. Mikey is reading CD liners. Really, everything here is wonderful. Gerard has been amazingly helpful. He offered to alphabetize all of your CDs. He wanted to vacuum.”

Brian sighed. “Yeah,” he said, “Gerard’s been acting a little weird.”

“It’s not so weird if you think about the circumstances,” Jeanne said. “Have you found someone to watch them? I’m not missing yoga on Thursday.”

“I’m on it. Uh, don’t tell them I called.”

“Well, Mikey can’t hear me over his headphones, but Gerard has been pretending not to listen in on this entire conversation.” Brian clearly heard Gerard say ‘ _I have not!_ ’ in the background. “He says hello.” ‘ _No I don’t!_ ’ Gerard protested.

“Thanks, ma. I’ll talk to you later.”

Brian hung up and thought. He was a problem solver. He was an innovator. There was a solution somewhere.

It came to him after half an hour of staring in to space. Who had the energy to chase kids around all day, the knowledge to tutor them, and was desperate enough for cash to actually take this on as a job?

A college student, of course.

Brian clicked on the internet and posted to craigslist. And then, because that was kind of a weird way to find someone to watch his kids – Jesus, “his kids” – he called a couple of local colleges and talked to the deans of whatever and gave them his contact information. Brian was a good networker. It was right up there in his skill set with having awesome instincts.

The day would have been fine, actually, if his boss hadn’t called him in with a big frown. Lou was one of those guys whose wife was always trying to put him on a diet, but it never took. He tugged angrily on his tie. “So did the week off fix you?” he asked. “It better have. I need you in L.A. on Friday.”

“Sorry,” Brian said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I can’t. There’s been kind of a change in my status.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Lou bawled. “Are you crazy?”

“I adopted a couple of kids on my week off. I can’t leave them and fly to L.A. Send Ross. He loves it out there.”

“That’s not funny.”

“I’m not kidding.” Brian waited. Here was the conversation he’d been running through in his head since Gerard had shown up on his doorstep a week earlier. This was the part where every single person he’d ever met in his entire life laughed him out of the building and told him he was an idiot. He was braced for it.

“They’re not really yours, though, right?” Lou said slowly. “You didn’t knock up some chick and just find out?”

Thank god, no. Brian shook his head.

“Well then I don’t know that you can take time off,” Lou said. “Legally, I mean.”

“They’re my adopted kids,” Brian lied. They would be eventually. Assuming he and Gerard didn’t kill each other while assembling any more furniture. “I’m pretty sure that’s discrimination and I can sue you.”

Lou considered that for a minute. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll send Ross. But lots of people here have kids, Schechter, and they still do their work. This is going to hurt your career.”

 _Fuck you, Lou._ Brian smiled. “Thanks,” he said, and walked out, before he got himself fired and lost the source of income that was going to let him keep Gerard and Mikey.

Gabe looked up as he walked by. “Why the long face, dude?” he said. “Lou get you down? How many times do I have to ask you to run away with me? We need to start our own management company, dude.”

“Gabe. Shut up,” Brian said.

Brian got home a little bit early. Gerard was helping Jeanne cook, offering worried helpful suggestions about adding salt and how he and Mikey didn’t eat that much, really. Interestingly, Frank was also there, sitting next to Gerard, bursting into laughter at him every couple of minutes. He was twitchy and couldn’t seem to sit still for ten seconds at a time. Brian was pretty sure he was going to fall right off the stool eventually. He stuck around until dinner, tailing Gerard like a lost puppy.

Frank was there the next day, too, when Brian got home. Gerard was very earnestly explaining a comic book to him in great detail, and Frank was nodding, although Brian suspected he wasn’t really listening. He said “Oh, cool,” in all the right places, and once in a while he’d lean over and tickle Mikey until Mikey collapsed in to giggles and Gerard had to pull Frank off him.

“I didn’t think Gerard would make friends so easily,” Brian’s mother said quietly. She adored Frank; he ate everything she handed him and was always painfully polite.

Brian hadn’t thought Gerard would make friends easily either. He tried bringing it up casually after Frank had left. He finally understood why all the questions his mother had asked him when he was a teenager had seemed so stupid; there was no good way to broach any conversational topic with Gerard. “So, uh, Frank,” he said finally, because he didn’t know what else to say.

Gerard shrugged. “If you don’t want us to have him over we won’t,” Gerard said. “I’m sorry. We should have asked.”

“No no, Frank’s great. Frank can come over whenever. You guys are friends, huh?” _Doesn’t Frank have other friends? Did you have friends where you lived before? How old is he, seriously, nine?_ “Frank seems cool.”

Gerard rolled his eyes. Brian was pretty sure all teenagers had to roll their eyes whenever an adult used the world “cool” but it still made him feel old. “Frank’s Frank,” Gerard said. “He just keeps coming over. I didn’t like, call him or anything, he just showed up.” He tugged on his sleeves. “I mean, Mikey likes him and stuff, so maybe he should keep coming over?” He glanced up at Brian out of the corner of his eyes.

 _Mikey_ liked Frank, huh? Brian hid a smirk. This was probably also why talking to adults had seemed intolerable as a kid; they were so smug. It wasn’t his fault that Gerard was pretty transparent.

“Frank should totally keep coming over,” Brian said, and pretended not to see Gerard’s relieved expression, “as long as his parents don’t mind.” He was not, at this point, entirely convinced Frank had parents, but he wasn’t about to ask Gerard. The words “parent” and “father” were two Brian tried to avoid at all costs, especially after Gerard’s angry declaration to Claire. He knew he wasn’t really their dad, but he was still a little bit stung over how upset Gerard had been.

As long as no angry adults showed up at his door demanding to know why Brian had their son at his house, Brian didn’t much care if Frank was there every day. Frank seemed to calm Gerard down a little bit, and Mikey liked pretty much everyone. Brian liked Frank, too. He was little and weird but he seemed pretty cool.

“Okay, I’ll tell him,” Gerard said.

“How old is Frank, by the way? Is he old enough to be out on his own all the time?” Brian asked. He was mildly afraid to hear the answer.

“Frank’s _twelve_ ,” Gerard said, rolling his eyes. Gerard always reacted as if Brian had asked the stupidest possible question.

“Um. Really? Because he’s like… He’s pretty small.”

“Twelve. He’ll be thirteen on Halloween. He just hasn’t had his growth spurt yet or something,” Gerard shrugged. And Gerard wasn’t exactly a towering giant, either, so maybe he was sympathetic. Brian had a sneaking suspicion that in a couple of years Mikey was going to be taller than his brother.

“Right. Twelve. Tell him I want to meet his parents, okay?”

Gerard shrugged.

Brian came home early on Thursday so his mother could go to yoga class. He was unsurprised to find Frank camped on the top stair. Mikey was standing behind him, craning his neck to watch. Brian was fairly surprised to see that Gerard was attempting to balance a pillow on the banister and slide down.

“Hi,” said Brian. “What’s going on?”

“We were sledding down the stairs!” Frank said happily. “Only that was too slow because the stairs are carpeted so we’re going to try the railing.”

“No,” said Brian. He crossed his arms.

“We put a couple of couch cushions at the bottom,” Gerard pointed out. “So if we fall we have something to land on.”

 _And when you FALL OFF THE EDGE and DIE then what?_ Brian’s blood pressure shot through the roof. He opened his mouth to yell.

His mother appeared out of nowhere. If she hadn’t called 911 the boys were probably okay, but Brian wasn’t feeling especially rational. Some of those steps were high, and what if Claire stopped by unexpectedly?

“Remember when you fell off the roof?” Jeanne asked sweetly, grabbing her jacket. “You made a parachute out of a pillow case.”

Brian closed his mouth again. He’d forgotten about that, actually. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. And he’d only had the cast for six weeks. “Okay,” he said, “fair point. They’re still not allowed to slide down the banister on a pillow, though.” She smiled and patted his cheek as she swept out the door.

“Sorry,” Gerard said immediately. “We didn’t – You’re home kind of early.”

“Don’t be sorry because I caught you, be sorry because you almost did something stupid,” Brian said. “You could have gotten hurt.”

“Pssh,” Frank said. “Getting hurt’s not so bad. Here, let me try.” He grabbed the pillow.

Brian flashed on Frank dying and Brian having to explain to his parents what he was doing at a stranger’s house flying down the stairs. Speaking of which – “Frank,” Brian said, “isn’t school in session right now? What are you doing here?”

Frank looked mildly abashed. “We had a fire drill,” he said, “so I left.”

“You – Frank – What?”

Frank shrugged. Gerard sighed and sat on the stairs. He was pretty aware that they were in trouble, even if Frank wasn’t yet.

Brian pulled out his blackberry. “Here,” he said. “Call someone to come get you. You can’t skip school to come over here, Frank. Plus, your parents need to know where you are.”

Frank rolled his eyes, but he took the phone and dialed. The conversation was short and involved a lot of yelling on the other end. “She’s coming to pick me up,” Frank said. He looked apologetically at Gerard. “We’ll have to figure out your comic book next time.”

Gerard was miserably resigned. He and Frank came and sat listlessly on the couch, with the twin expressions of prisoners on death row. It was sort of funny, but Brian knew better than to laugh. Mikey said “I _told_ you Brian wouldn’t like it,” and put his headphones on.

Frank’s mother was tiny, angry, and loud. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Schechter,” she said, after she introduced herself. “Frankie knows better. He won’t bother you again.”

Gerard looked panicked. “That’s okay, actually,” Brian said quickly. “We like Frank a lot. He’s a great kid. He just can’t be here when he’s supposed to be at school. But uh, any other time is great. Gerard and Mikey are new around here, and I’m glad they’re making friends.”

Mrs. Iero wasn’t having any of that. She grabbed Frank by the elbow and marched him out to the car. “Next time you should come to play at my house!” Frank called cheerfully, before she slammed the car door.

Gerard waved morosely from the window. “So, are we in big trouble?” he asked. His voice was shaking just a little bit. It took Brian a second to figure out why; ‘big trouble’ in Gerard’s experience didn’t involve being grounded. Gerard slumped and stared at his sneakers.

Brian was flying without a map again. “You shouldn’t have been jumping down the stairs,” Brian said carefully, “and Frank shouldn’t have skipped school.” God, were sixth graders really skipping school now? It was a whole new world. “But you didn’t do anything bad, Gerard. You just made a bad decision or two.”

“Oh.”

He should really have banned Frank from the house for a few days, but he didn’t have the heart. On the other hand he didn’t want to be a total pushover. “How about, no TV for 24 hours,” Brian offered. “And you promise me it won’t happen again.”

Gerard didn’t react at all for a minute, and then he looked up. Disbelief was written across his face. “And?” he said.

Brian shrugged. “I know I sounded mad, and so did Frank’s mom, but… It’s not that big a deal. No one got hurt. You didn’t skip school, Frank did. That’s it. Go on upstairs.”

Gerard just looked suspicious. “Fine,” he said flatly. “If you say so.”

“Really.”

“Sure.” He paused. “You don’t want me to… Mop or something? I could vacuum again. I could—”

“Go upstairs, Gerard.”

Gerard was just not going to be convinced that the other shoe wasn’t waiting to drop. Brian waited until he was out of sight and then collapsed on the couch himself. That could have been worse. It could have gone better, too. It was clearly going to take a long time to win Gerard’s trust completely. Brian was braced for a long, uphill battle. Given a few more weeks with Gerard, he was sure he could convince the kid that Brian was trustworthy. Maybe he could even talk Gerard down from his constant nervous cleaning binges.

It was unfortunate that Claire called on Saturday with news.

\ \ \

Mikey didn’t cry, but his eyes were pretty big and suspiciously wet. Brian wanted to pull the kid in to his lap, but Mikey didn’t seem to want it. “It’s just temporary,” Brian said. “Claire and I are going to work this out as quickly as possible. The sooner you guys go, the quicker I can get approved and you can come back.”

Gerard’s face was murderous. He was vibrating with anger. “I told you,” he muttered under his breath for probably the seventeenth time.

“It’s for about a month,” Brian repeated. “I can’t get approved to have you guys until I’ve taken a bunch of parenting classes. And I can’t have my house approved with you here. So you have to go somewhere else and the second I’m approved – four weeks from now – you come back and then you stay. Permanently.”

Mikey’s lower lip trembled just a little bit, and he hugged his knees to his chest. “Okay,” he said.

“You’re not going back to any of the people you stayed with before,” Brian said. “You’re going to a group home in the city, and Claire’s going to check on you every day.”

“Okay,” Mikey said again.

Gerard blew out a long, disgusted breath. “I told you,” he said, louder this time. “I told you it wasn’t going to work out. I told you that—”

“I’m not that nice, and I’m not going anywhere,” Brian said flatly. “Get it? You’re going away because it’s the only way I get to keep you guys. I wasn’t kidding. You’re mine now.”

“No, we’re not,” Gerard snapped back. “Me and Mikey are _ours_. I mean, we’re what we have. We don’t have you, or Claire, or anyone else. And we don’t need you.”

Brian worked really hard not to yell back. “You’ll be back home in a month. Think of it like a vacation.”

“That’s stupid. And this isn’t our _home_. It’s just your house.”

It felt like Gerard was punching him every time he did that. Brian clenched his teeth a little bit. “Well, we don’t have any other options.”

“Sure we do,” Gerard snotted back. “We had options before we met you and we have options now.”

Brian’s heart dropped. He and Claire had discussed this. “No,” he said. “Gerard, you absolutely can _not_ run away again.”

“I can,” Gerard muttered.

“No! It’s dangerous, it’s stupid, it’s – ”

“I was making decisions on my own just fine before I met you and I don’t have to listen to you now!”

“Gerard— ”

“You’re not my dad! You’re not anybody! You can’t tell me what to do!” Gerard yelled.

Mikey said softly “I don’t wanna.”

Brian, mid-yell, stopped and turned. So did Gerard.

Mikey’s face was streaky with tears. He sniffled snottily. “Gee, I don’t wanna,” he repeated, looking beseechingly at his brother. “I want to stay with Brian.”

“Mikey,” Gerard said. His voice was broken.

“It’s nice here. Brian’s nice. We’re safe here. You don’t have to steal anything. I don’t care if we have to go back to school or anything, I want to _stay_. Please, Gee?”

“But we’re _not_ staying,” Gerard argued. “He’s getting rid of us.”

Hearing that was a lot like being punched. “No, I’m not!” Brian protested. “You’ll be back in a month. Claire’s sure. I’m sure.”

Gerard looked from Brian to Mikey and back. Mikey looked absolutely as miserable as Brian had ever seen him. Gerard wavered for a minute, clearly torn. “You’re a liar,” he said finally to Brian, with as much venom as he could muster. “You’re a liar, and _I told you so_.” He turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Brian looked at Mikey. “He won’t run away,” Mikey said confidently. “He won’t go without me. And I know we’re coming back.”

Mikey’s faith was astonishing, and humbling, and Brian felt himself start to choke up. “Mikey,” he said, “you are. I _promise_.”

Mikey nodded and wiped off his cheek. “Okay,” he said.

Gerard stayed upstairs for dinner and didn’t come down for breakfast, either. Brian felt kind of sick. He knew why Gerard was upset. He knew it wasn’t really about him. But he felt like he’d failed Gerard, somehow. He should have tried harder, or argued more with Claire. He should have been able to keep them the whole time. He should have had something reassuring to say. He should have won Gerard’s trust by now.

Claire pulled up to take them just before lunch. It was cold outside, and she brought the wind in with her. It looked like it might snow later. Claire looked grim, but she put on a big fake smile for Mikey. “Hey, sweetie,” she said. “You ready to go? You and Gerard will be back here in no time.” She looked sympathetically at Brian.

“Yeah,” Mikey said. He was totally over the crying from yesterday. He was almost expressionless behind his glasses, actually. Mikey turned to Brian. “Here,” he said, handing Brian his iPod.

Brian had spent the whole morning tied up in knots. He wanted to scream, or cry, or put his hand through the window, but Gerard was upset enough for everyone else involved, and someone had to keep a happy face on Mikey. And now he felt like he might cry. “Jesus, Mikey, no,” he said. “This is yours. You keep this.”

Mikey shook his head stubbornly. “They won’t let me have it at the group house,” he said. “The kids will steal it or adults will steal it and I’ll never get it back. If we’re really coming back here in a month then I want you to hold on to it for me. Keep it safe.”

 _Don’t cry. Grownups don’t cry._ Brian cleared his throat a couple of times. “Okay,” he said, taking it. “I’m gonna leave it up in your room. You can have it when you come back.”

“Yeah,” said Mikey. “Okay.” He picked up the backpack full of clothes Brian had bought for him and went out to the car with Claire.

Gerard stomped downstairs with nothing in his hands and brushed past Brian without a word. He wasn’t even wearing the jacket he’d gotten from Jeanne. He threw himself in the back seat of Claire’s car and crossed his arms and set his jaw like a boxer.

Brian was really going to throw up. “They’ll be back,” Claire promised softly, waving.

“I know,” Brian replied. He didn’t wave when the car pulled away. Mikey wasn’t smiling and Gerard wasn’t looking up. Brian couldn’t make his arms move.

He might have stood there in the doorway all day, slowly freezing to death, if Frank hadn’t shown up a few minutes later. “Can Gerard and Mikey come out and play?” Frank asked politely.

“Jesus,” said Brian, shocked awake. “No. Come back in May.” He shut the door.


	6. Chapter 6

Frank had been following this kid around the playground for two weeks. He was big and blond and kind of tough-looking and no one gave him any shit, which was sometimes all Frank wanted in the whole world. Frank didn’t mind too much when kids called him names and stuffed him in lockers and so on, because he was willing to fight dirty and bite, or kick crotches to get them back. But he wanted to exude the “don’t fuck with me” vibe that this kid had so it wouldn’t happen in the first place. Frank expected that if he followed him around long enough he’d pick it up.

He’d gotten distracted from this quest for a whole week because he’d been busy with Gerard and Mikey. Pretty much the second Frank set eyes on Gerard he knew they were going to be best friends. Of course, that first second had been when Gerard shoved his hood back and said “Hey, you can’t do that!” to a kid seriously three times as big as he was. His face was incredibly pale and his hair was jet-black and long in a kind of cool way and he had big dark eyes that were filled with conviction, despite the fact that he was about to get the snot beaten out of him.

Frank could relate.

Frank had spent most of his twelve years trying to convince people to take him seriously. It was hard, being the shortest kid in every class, and every year some asshole tried to take Frank’s bag or throw his lunch in the mud. Frank did not negotiate with terrorists. Frank fucked terrorists up.

So he appreciated Gerard’s spirit and he appreciated the way Gerard didn’t hesitate to throw himself on the bully and he appreciated the way Gerard took a punch to the face without crying. Okay, without crying much. It wasn’t Gerard’s fault that his eyes teared up when he got smacked; getting hit in the face hurt. That was why Frank aimed for the nose.

Frank also appreciated that Gerard always had something interesting to say. He appreciated that Gerard was funny. He appreciated that Mikey was fun to hang out with. He appreciated that their house was a lot nicer than his was and their dad – or whatever the hell Brian was – was a lot more laid back than Frank’s mom, and he never served cereal for dinner because that was all he could afford. (Frank didn’t blame his mom for that or anything; that was just the way the cookie crumbled, apparently.) There were tons of things Frank liked about Gerard. He felt a little bit like Gerard was a bright light, and everything had been dark before. Not dark in a bad way, just… Not as bright.

Only now Gerard was apparently gone. Frank had no idea what to make of Brian’s order to come back in May. It was possible Gerard was grounded until then; Frank had been grounded for six months, once, but he hadn’t _meant_ to set the neighbor’s dog on fire, and his mom had relented after only two months. Frank thought it might be something different, though, because Mikey was gone, too. Frank had trouble imagining Mikey getting in too much trouble, unless Gerard got there first. And if Gerard was getting in to trouble, he should have invited Frank.

So after a week of awesomeness, Gerard and Mikey were gone, as suddenly as they’d appeared. Frank was back to following the bigger kid around the playground.

The flaw in his plan, which had been working without a hitch for two weeks (plus the week of Gerard and Mikey), turned out to be that when Frank came around the corner, the kid was standing there, arms crossed, frowning. He wasn’t supposed to _know_ anyone was following him. Damn.

“What the hell?” said the kid. He wasn’t much older than Frank, but he was a lot bigger.

“Hi,” said Frank, “I’m Frank.”

“Okay,” said the kid. “So what? Why are you following me?”

Frank smiled. “I’m trying to learn to be like you.”

The kid blinked a couple of times. “…What?” he said. “I don’t get you.”

Frank decided brutal honesty was the only way to go. “You’re really… You don’t ever get hassled at school, and I get hassled all the time. It’s like… The way you stand and the way you talk and stuff. So I’ve been following you around to figure out how you do it.”

“You’re weird,” said the kid, but not in a mean way. It was kind of true, anyway, so Frank didn’t mind. The kid hadn’t said ‘you’re stupid’ or ‘get away from me’ or ‘what kind of freak are you?’

Frank shrugged. “So can you show me?”

“Uh. I don’t think so. I think it’s just who I am,” he said.

“Speaking of which,” Frank pointed out, “you didn’t tell me your name.”

The kid blinked at him again. He was quiet, apparently, which Frank liked. Maybe that was the key to seeming tough. Strong and silent. “Bob,” the kid said finally.

Frank cracked up. He couldn’t help it. “Bob?” he giggled. “Seriously? And you _don’t_ get your ass kicked?”

He thought for a second that Bob was going to punch him, but instead he just looked a little worried. “It’s my name,” he said. “I didn’t pick it or anything.”

The fact that he wasn’t mad was even funnier to Frank, who was going to fall over from laughing in a minute. “Your name is _Bob_ ,” Frank repeated. That was so awesome.

“Yeah.” Bob looked sort of confused.

“And you’re secretly not mean _at all_ ,” Frank added, delighted.

Bob scratched his head. “I guess,” he said. “I don’t want to be mean or anything. People just kind of leave me alone.”

“That’s awesome,” Frank said. “I’m small, and no one leaves me alone _ever_. So I’m going to stick with you from now on.”

There were a bunch of ways Bob could have reacted to that. He could have yelled at Frank to leave him alone, or laughed at him, or punched him in the face. Frank was sort of prepared for any of those.

Instead, Bob looked mildly embarrassed and shrugged. “Okay,” he said. “I guess.”

Frank fell a little bit in love.

\ \ \ \

The house was quiet as hell, and it was making Brian crazy.

He’d lived by himself since he’d graduated from college, and he liked his space. He liked being in charge of the remote control, and leaving takeout containers all over the counters, and having everything else put neatly away. He liked sleeping in all weekend and staying out all night if he felt like it. Now suddenly he didn’t like any of that at all.

He lasted a whole 24 hours before he called Claire. She didn’t answer. He waited half an hour before he called again. He waited ten minutes and called again. Then he sat and stared at his phone, trying to make it ring with his brain.

The house was so _quiet_. Mikey wasn’t upstairs messing with the computer and reordering all the playlists on his iPod. Gerard wasn’t leaving markers all over the floor for someone to trip on. No one was arguing with anyone else about which Superman movie was the best. It was awful.

Claire finally called back in the morning. Brian felt like shit. He hadn’t slept well since she’d called and told him that the boys had to leave. He was sleeping worse since they’d left. The door to their room was open, and every time he walked past he saw Mikey’s iPod, mocking him.

“You have to relax,” Claire ordered. “They’re fine. Mikey says hi, by the way.”

 _And Gerard?_ Brian didn’t have to ask; he knew Gerard was still pissed. “I’m relaxed!” he protested. “I’m just… Are they okay? Are they having fun? Where are they?”

“Brian. Go to the parenting seminars, make sure your house is kid-friendly, find them a school. I convinced my supervisor that all the paperwork went through months ago. You can’t freak out, here. You have to be interviewed by our psychiatrist.”

That made Brian kind of mad, actually. “Because your process is foolproof, huh?” he demanded. “No one ever gets through and ends up using kids as punching bags.”

She sighed. “I’m being patient, because I know you miss them. Try not to be an asshole, okay?”

Brian bit his lip. “Okay,” he said. “I’m sorry.” _No, I’m not._ “How are they?”

“They’re fine, Brian. Honestly.”

“Is it illegal for you to give me some details?” He couldn’t help feeling frustrated. He’d spent two days worrying about what the hell was going on with Gerard and Mikey. Had Gerard stuck around? Was Mikey still talking? Did they miss him? Would they admit it if they did?

Not that Brian was entirely ready to admit that he missed them, either. At least, not in public. Or maybe just not how _much_ he missed them. He had some dignity to preserve. Gerard and Mikey were allowed to cry about this shit, because they were kids. Brian needed a beer and a nice, manly football game.

Claire made an impatient noise. “They’re adjusting as well as can be expected. Gerard and Mikey were never huge fans of being in the group homes; they don’t love being around lots of strangers or other kids.”

“So Mikey’s not talking?”

“Brian, Mikey almost never talks anyway.”

 _He does to me._ “And Gerard’s not drawing?”

“Gerard’s not doing anything. He’s just… He’s sitting around glaring, mostly. He’s not even really talking to Mikey.”

“And--”

Claire cut him off. “Brian, I’m already convinced. I get it. You’re the best bet these kids have. I’m on your side already. Stop trying to guilt me. I can’t give them back to you right now. No one can.”

Brian pressed his lips together angrily. He hated being obvious. “I’m frustrated, okay?” he said. “I miss them.” Okay, apparently he was ready to admit that in public.

“Well, it’ll be another few weeks before they come back, so you’re going to have to find a way to deal with this without calling me every ten minutes. Parenting classes start tonight; don’t be late.”

“I won’t be.”

“And don’t be sarcastic.”

“I wasn’t!”

“Brian.”

Jesus, she spent too much time talking to kids. He hated being baby-talked. “I will be on my best, _best_ behavior,” he promised, fighting to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “I will smile and nod and sign things and answer questions politely and do whatever the fuck I have to do, okay?”

“Excellent. I have to go. Do you want me to tell them anything from you?”

 _Tell Gerard I’m sorry. Tell him I didn’t know this was going to happen. Tell him I understand if he hates me but I know he’ll get over it eventually._ “Tell Mikey his iPod is waiting for him,” Brian said finally.

“Right,” Claire said, and hung up.

\ \ \ \ \

Brian’s mom stopped by on Thursday with food. Lots of food. Nearly as much food as she’d brought for Gerard and Mikey that first morning. Brian stared at her. “You know they’re not here, right?” he asked. “Who do you think is going to eat all this?”

“Well, you haven’t eaten anything all week. I thought you might want to make up for some lost time.” She put her hands on her hips and frowned.

How could a mother not talk to you for a week and somehow know all your eating habits anyway? It was uncanny. Brian wondered if he’d ever get that way with Gerard and Mikey, and then realized he sort of was. He was absolutely sure that, wherever they were, they weren’t eating well.

Creepy.

“I’m eating,” he protested half-heartedly. “I’m just not hungry right now.” _Or ever._

“Oh, sweetie,” she said. She made a half-sad half-pitying face.

“They’re just…” He waved his hands around helplessly. “They were here! I was just starting to get used to them! And now they’re… not!” He wished he could make that sound a little more sane, but he hadn’t slept well in a week and he was starting to lose his ability to make words.

Jeanne clucked sympathetically. “They’ll be back soon. How are the parenting classes?” She clearly thought the idea of him taking classes in being a parent was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. She had smirked about it on the phone.

“Awful,” Brian said, crossing his arms and slumping sulkily against the wall. Gerard wasn’t there for him to be a bad example to, so he was free to act as childishly as he wanted. “The people are completely stupid and I don’t need them. They’re not telling me anything I want to know. Seriously, ma, did you know kids should eat balanced meals three times a day? And they shouldn’t watch too much TV. Oh, and showing them porn is child abuse.”

“Mmm,” she said mildly, rearranging his fridge.

“But there’s no, like… Like… There’s no class in how to get a teenager to talk to you when he’s acting like a total weirdo. There’s no class in knowing when they’re lying or why they’re lying to you. There’s no list of weirdo behavior and what it means. Nothing is _useful_. It’s like driver’s ed all over again.”

Jeanne calmly handed him a sandwich. “That’s because no one has a solution for any of those problems,” she said.

Brian looked suspiciously at her and then the sandwich. “Two weeks ago you told me this was a crazy, stupid idea,” he pointed out. “And now you’re being…” Not supportive, exactly. Jeanne had long left Brian alone to make his own decisions and mistakes. But she’d come by with food, and since he’d called to tell her he was planning to keep the boys she hadn’t even once mocked the idea again. “Why aren’t you still telling me this is stupid?”

“Because it’s not my place to tell you how to live your life, however stupid you’re being.” Brian opened his mouth to object but she rolled right over him. “And it’s a good kind of stupid, Bri. It’s not like jumping off a cliff or moving to Tibet for a year; you’re helping people. You’re turning in to a grownup. I have to support that.”

“Oh.” He supposed that was better than the response he’d sort of expected – that she thought he’d gone crazy, or wouldn’t go through with it, or that he’d fall apart when faced with being a full-time caretaker.

“And I need to know when their birthdays are.”

Brian rolled his eyes. “How would I know that?”

She smacked him. “Brian! You can’t have them and not know when their birthdays are! I need to know when I’m knitting them sweaters!”

“Ma,” Brian said, “you don’t knit. You’ve never knitted.”

“But now I have grandkids, Brian. I never thought I’d have those! I have to learn to knit. I’m going to let all those horrible women at the library teach me, and I’m going to make something with a reindeer on it! And you have to wear it, because your dear old mother made it for you.” She beamed.

Jeanne was evil. He always forgot that, somehow. “You know you just called them your grandkids, right?” he said carefully.

“Brian,” Jeanne sighed. “How do you expect them to believe they belong here if _you_ don’t believe it?”

Brian had absolutely no response. He hadn’t thought of that. He hadn’t thought of anything except how much he missed having the little pains-in-the-ass around, and how quiet it was without them. He hadn’t wanted to broach anything with his mother until he and Gerard had some kind of agreement. Clearly they weren’t going to call him ‘dad.’ He wasn’t their father. But he had to be their… something. Could they live there and call his mom grandma and still call him Brian?

“Please don’t learn to knit,” Brian said. “Ma. Please.”

Jeanne pointed a finger at him. “You’d just better tell me when their birthdays are. Didn’t Gerard say he was ‘almost’ fourteen?”

Brian had considered a lot of things, but never that he’d missed Gerard’s birthday somewhere. “I’m sure he was lying,” he lied. “There is no way that kid is fourteen. And even if he is, we have more important things to worry about.”

“What’s more important than your birthday when you’re fourteen?” his mother asked philosophically.

“Having somewhere safe to live with your brother,” Brian said.

She pointed at him again. “You whined for _three months_ because you wanted to go roller skating.”

“Oh my god, ma.”

“You wanted roller skating, and you wanted a cake shaped like a guitar, and you wanted to invite Cassie Jamison from down the block.”

Clearly his mother had been storing up every embarrassing story about every embarrassing thing that had ever happened to him in his entire life, just waiting for a chance to use them. Brian made a mental note: start writing down embarrassing things Gerard and Mikey did to use against them later.

“And when Cassie got there you’d eaten too much cake and roller skated in circles for too long and you threw up all over her,” Jeanne said nostalgically. “Eat your sandwich.”

He’d never wanted the sandwich in the first place, and now he was grumpy. “I can’t believe you remember that,” he said. “That’s not fair. Yeah, I was stupid about that party forever, but then it was a total disaster and I wished it had never happened for the entire rest of high school. I’m not sure that’s the right way to persuade me that I should worry about Gerard’s birthday.”

She patted his arm. “Wouldn’t it be nice to see Gerard stupidly excited about something?” she asked.

 _Right, but he hates me now, and no amount of roller skating is going to fix that._ Brian considered Gerard and Mikey and Frank on roller skates. Someone would probably end up dead and decapitated. It would be fun, though. “Yeah,” he said grudgingly. “I guess.”

“Think about it,” his mother ordered. “These aren’t the grandkids I planned on having, Brian, but if these are the ones I’m getting then I intend to spoil them rotten. I can’t do that without birthdays.”

“Ma—”

“Figure it out or I really will learn to knit and make you a sweater with a giant deer head on it.” Brian shuddered. She would. “Now eat something before you waste away and there’s no one to take care of them. Suck it up and deal with the classes and make sure you turn in all the paperwork on time.” She kissed his forehead and left.

Brian ate the sandwich. Someday she’d get tired of being right all the time.

\ \ \ \ \

Mikey called on Saturday afternoon. Brian was at the office, working, because what the hell else did he have to do? He’d looked at some of the emails he’d gotten from potential tutors, and none of them sounded right. Not that Brian knew a lot about tutors. He just knew so far no one deserved a phone call. It was possible he was being a little picky. Brian didn’t care.

His phone said “Claire” but it was Mikey’s voice saying “Uh, Brian?”

Brian’s voice caught in his throat. “Mikey,” he said. “Hi! How are you? How is everything? Are you guys okay? How’s Gerard? How’s—” and then forced himself to stop and be a little less frantic. “Hey,” he said, clearing his throat. “So, what’s up?”

Mikey hesitated. “Brian,” he said. “Can I ask you something?”

It sounded ominous, but Brian had been fooled by Mikey before. “Sure,” he said.

“Gee says… Gerard says that… Listen, you didn’t forget, did you?” Mikey sounded uncertain and slightly incoherent.

Brian thought wildly. Had he forgotten something? Had he promised to do anything while they were gone? Mikey’s iPod was still upstairs, next to Gerard’s mostly-untouched art supplies. “Forget what?” he asked.

“Oh. Nothing. You knew it was me on the phone.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, then.”

It wasn’t okay; it was maddening. Mikey had the most frustrating tendency not to finish his thoughts clearly. “Can you give me a hint about what I forgot?” Brian asked, trying to sound patient.

“It’s okay. How are you doing?”

“I’m good. How are you guys?” Mikey was an enigma wrapped in a riddle wrapped in an eleven-year-old.

“We’re okay. Well. You know.”

Brian figured he probably did know; they were miserable and Gerard was being a huge fit-throwing diva while Mikey retreated from the world. “Gerard isn’t causing too much trouble, is he?” Brian asked.

Mikey considered for a second. “He’s still pretty mad,” he said. “And the other kids don’t like him much. They called him… Well, a lot of things. But Gee doesn’t so much listen to that. Claire asked him if he wanted to talk to you and he said no. But I think he didn’t mean it. Oh, Claire says I should tell you happy things. So, uh, we’re fine.”

Brian ground his teeth. “You can tell me the truth, Mikey. Not just happy things.”

“Well.” Mikey stopped again. “Then you should probably know Gee’s having nightmares again. A lot of them. Pretty bad.”

 _God fucking damn it all to hell._ “Mikey, is he-- ” Brian started.

Mikey was busy talking to someone in the room with him. “No, he always did,” he said clearly. “Oh, because Brian already knew, but Gee didn’t want me to tell anyone.” And then “Just, you know, stuff.”

Had Gerard’s nightmares stopped while he was staying with Brian, or had Brian just not been woken up by them? Brian had no idea, and now he felt even guiltier. “Mikey, you guys will be back here soon. You know that, right? Tell Gerard to hang on.” Not that Gerard wanted to hear that, or that Gerard was enthusiastic about coming back. Brian wanted to bang his head against the wall. What was it about these kids that brought that out in him? “Oh, fuck. And when is Gerard’s birthday?"

Mikey said happily, “It was yesterday. We all had really gross cupcakes from a box and he didn’t want his and so I ate it and I barfed.”

Brian did, in fact, bang his head against the wall a couple of times. It gave him a headache, but it didn’t take away the hideous stabbing guilt or the fact that his mother was right, yet again. Damn her anyway; why couldn’t she let him have just one, once? “Why didn’t anyone tell me it was Gerard’s birthday?” Brian asked in a slightly strangled voice.

“Well. We’re not there,” Mikey said. It sounded sort of reasonable, which made Brian want to hit something again. “Gerard didn’t want to celebrate anyway. He said so.”

Of course he didn’t. Gerard was determined to be as miserable as humanly possible, and Brian totally understood why. That didn’t stop Brian from wanting to fix it somehow. “When you guys come back we’ll have a real party,” Brian offered. “What kind of party would Gerard want?”

“I don’t know,” Mikey said. “He’s never said.”

Brian ground his teeth. He had three weeks to figure it out. By the time they got back he’d have the best fucking party in the universe all planned, to make up for the fact that he was a selfish fucking jerk who’d never even thought about their birthdays. “Mikey,” he said, “you can call me anytime, okay? And I’ll see you guys soon.”

“Okay,” said Mikey. Brian was glad that Mikey never got too worked up about anything, because it made him easy to talk to. He kind of wished Mikey got a tiny bit emotional, though, because sometimes Brian felt like he was talking to a wall. “Claire wants to talk to you. Bye.”

Brian waited for the phone to switch hands, and then he said angrily “Why didn’t you _tell_ me about Gerard’s fucking birthday?” at the same time that Claire demanded “What’s all this about nightmares?” They both paused.

“Go ahead,” Brian said grudgingly.

“Tell me about these nightmares Gerard is having. I need to know this kind of thing, Brian.”

“He wakes up in the middle of the night, pretty upset. He was dreaming about the last place he and Mikey stayed before they ran away.”

Claire, when pressured, could swear like a sailor. “I didn’t mention the birthday thing because I figured you couldn’t do anything about it,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

Brian closed his eyes for a second. He understood. He was pissed, but he understood. It was just something else he couldn’t make any better for Gerard and Mikey. One more thing he felt like he should have figured out sooner, or cared more about. He was still new to putting other people first; it had never occurred to him to ask the kids about birthdays. It might never have. What other things was he not asking them about?

“These parenting classes suck,” he said finally. “There’s no way we can speed this up?”

“Well, uh.” Claire paused. “Actually, I was going to ask, I guess. You’re still sure you want them back?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Brian exploded. “How can you ask me that?”

“You only had them for two weeks. That’s not a long time to make a life-changing decision.”

“ _Yes_ I want them back.” Veins were throbbing in Brian’s forehead, and he was so angry he could barely get the words out. “You had better not be putting them anywhere else, Claire, or I swear to god I’ll—”

“No, no,” Claire said quickly, “I still think you’re the best placement. They trust you, and they haven’t trusted anyone in a long time. I just wanted to make sure _you_ were sure.” She hesitated again. “If you do have second thoughts, you need to tell me immediately.”

“I _won’t_ ,” Brian snapped. He sounded a little bit like Gerard, actually.

“Okay. The house inspection will be sometime this week. I’ll have Mikey call you again in a few days. Gerard is… Well, he’s probably not going to want to talk to you on the phone. He wants to go back. He hasn’t said so explicitly, of course, because he’s busy being sulky. But I can tell. The child psychologist is mildly optimistic. When you saved Mikey’s life you got a lot of good will from Gerard.”

 _Good will I have mostly used up._ Brian sighed. “I get it,” he said. “Fine. Thanks.”

So. In recap. He’d missed Gerard’s birthday. Mikey was worried about something he refused to explain but which was probably Gerard’s fault. Claire thought he was going to punk out on them. Gerard was having screaming nightmares again. _Fucking awesome._

The weirdest part was he really hadn’t had second thoughts. He’d made a decision and he was sticking with it. He hadn’t lied to Mikey; he was sure they were coming back to him. He just had to make sure he was ready.

What the hell kind of birthday party did you throw for a kid like Gerard?

\ \ \ \

The house inspection was fine. The meeting with the psychologist was fine. Brian tried not to mention anything that made him sound too crazy and the psychologist mostly asked him questions about how he felt about parenting. Brian had had enough of the horrible classes to answer correctly about stuff – physical punishment was never okay, the kids had to be his priority, yes he had a support system in place for himself and for them. It was pretty easy to fake. _No wonder_ , Brian thought grimly, _it was so easy for those other assholes to get through_.

He threw himself in to his work, and tried to avoid Gabe, who kept asking questions about where Gerard and Mikey were. Brian didn’t want to talk about it. He spent a long weekend in L.A. listening to bands, and pretended not to hear Lou when he said Brian did better work back before he was distracted by his ‘snot-nosed brats.’ If Brian acknowledged hearing that he was going to punch his boss in the face. He got the bed finished and assembled and he repainted the room and he bought more sheets and pillows and stupid domestic things. He spent a lot of hours every day deliberately not thinking about Gerard or Mikey. It was hard. He ended up watching shitty TV until all hours of the night.

He looked half-heartedly for a school for them, and more seriously for a tutor, or at least someone to stay with them during the day. No one sounded good, but he called a couple of people back just to be sure. The girl who cooed “Oh, I _love_ children!” was out immediately; Brian didn’t want to be around her, let alone see her face down Gerard. Anyone who sounded like a pushover was out, too. He was starting to despair of ever finding anyone who he even wanted to meet. It was three weeks before he called one of the college students back, only to hear his voicemail message – “Hey, this is Brendon and I can’t answer the phone ‘cause I’m probably playing D’n’D right now. If a grue doesn’t get me, I’ll call you right back. Leave a message!”

Brian swallowed a laugh and left his number.

Brendon turned out to be everything Brian had expected; skinny, energetic, hilarious hair, bright red glasses, tight hipster jeans. He was a total dork, and therefore possibly someone Brian was willing to unleash Gerard on. It helped that he explained he was a music major looking for a full-time summer job, and that he knew the names of three bands Brian had signed.

It helped more that, when Brian sighed and gave him the bare-bones explanation of what was going on, Brendon didn’t freak out. “They lost their family and missed a year of school and they’re going to be a fucking handful,” Brian said. “They’re old enough that they don’t need actual babysitting, but they do need someone they can trust, and they need a lot of patience.”

Brendon had been hyper the entire interview, bouncing around in his chair and playing with his glasses, but he stilled. He contemplated the ceiling for a long minute. “It’s not quite the same,” he said, “but I kind of get it. I sort of lost my family last year.”

Brian’s heart dropped. What the fuck was up with him lately, attracting the broken and the injured everywhere he turned? “Yeah?” he asked uncomfortably.

“Not—Not like they’re dead,” Brendon said. “But I left for college to study music instead of going on mission, and they… They love me, but I kind of rejected everything they believe in. I’m sort of looking for a job for this summer because I can’t go home. Well, I could. But I can’t go home and still study music.”

It wasn’t really the same at all, but there were Brian’s instincts, screaming at him again. “You don’t mind spending your summer tutoring 8th grade math and 5th grade reading to two kids who are kind of… Problematic?” he asked.

Brendon shrugged. “As long as I have time to play guitar at home and go see music and stuff, I’m down,” he said. “I fucking aced high school math. And I’m free anytime after classes end in May.”

“Awesome,” Brian said, and shook Brendon’s hand. That had only taken three weeks. _Watch_ , he thought sourly, _now Gerard will totally hate him_. Of course, Gerard seemed to hate almost everyone and everything, so it wouldn’t be that surprising. Brendon seemed like he could handle it.

Brian didn’t have a whole lot left to do except wait, and to drive himself crazy waiting.

\ \ \ \

The last week in April, Frank got suspended from school. It was completely not his fault.

School had been totally free from any kind of incident since he’d started hanging around with Bob. Bob didn’t say much, and Bob didn’t do much, but if Frank was with Bob everyone left him alone. Frank kind of liked that, although he also kind of liked being in the middle of whatever was going on. He was trying to get used to Bob, who was actually really cool and a little bit shy. Bob had a Wii at his house, which was so awesome Frank couldn’t believe more people didn’t want to hang out with Bob. Apparently everyone at school was totally fooled by the quiet-and-tough face Bob put on, though, so he didn’t really have anyone to hang out with. Frank was pretty sure Bob was going to love Gerard and Mikey.

Anyway, after a long time with no trouble, suddenly there was trouble again. Trouble showed up in the form of a fifth grader who was as big as a freaking high schooler because he had been held back about nine times, and who thought Frank was leaning against his part of the wall outside at recess.

That was clearly bullshit; no one got any special part of the wall to lean against. Frank told him so. Bob was home sick that day, and Frank had been hoping he’d picked up enough ‘take no shit’ attitude from Bob to be left alone. But this kid had clearly been waiting for Frank to be alone so he could start something, and if anything was starting then Frank was going to end it.

It went badly for Frank, but it went worse for the other kid.

Frank got suspended for two weeks for fighting. The fifth grader got a black eye and a sprained wrist and a nasty bite on his shoulder. He only got suspended for one week, but Frank didn’t mind too much; the universe was unfair, his mom liked to say. Frank got that.

It left Frank with a lot of time to kill.

Frank’s mom worked all day, so Frank was on his own while he was suspended. Frank went over to Bob’s house to play Wii tennis as soon as Bob felt better. Bob thought it was hilarious how excited about Wii tennis Frank got. Frank thought it was hilarious that he could kick Bob’s ass at Wii tennis.

“Dude,” said Bob. “You know I’m transferring schools at the end of the year, right?”

Frank hadn’t known that, actually. He sighed. This was more cookie crumbling, probably, and he should learn to deal with it, but it also kind of sucked. “Why?” he asked. “You’re not the one getting suspended for fighting.”

Frank had been suspended three times this year, and his mom was getting pretty upset. There were other schools he could transfer to, but they were kind of far away and she worried about him riding the bus with lots of kids he didn’t know. Frank told her not to worry too much about it, because he knew she had other things to worry about and he could take care of himself. Plus now he had Bob, and Bob had made things a lot easier at school.

“I know,” Bob said. “But I have a friend who goes to Montrell. It’s this private school that has like, awesome music and art and stuff. And I play drums and my dad thinks I should go somewhere better than the local fucking public school. That’s what he said.”

Oh. Damn. “I wish I could transfer there,” said Frank wistfully. “I want to play guitar.”

“Well, why not?” Bob asked reasonably, and totally killed Frank at Mario Kart.

Frank didn’t bring it up with his mother, because he knew the answer would be a sigh and a sad look and another explanation about why things weren’t fair and didn’t always work out the way she wished they would for him. He’d be okay with eighth grade next year even without Bob around. Frank was really good at making stuff work out.

Bob went back to school and Frank still had nothing to do all day. He wandered the neighborhood for a while. It was getting a little bit warmer out. Frank liked being outdoors.

It took another three days of total, supreme, utter boredom before Frank found himself back at Gerard and Mikey’s house. It had been weeks since he’d been there. It was even May, at long last. He hadn’t seen them around, but he also hadn’t _not_ seen them around. Maybe they just weren’t allowed to go outside again because they’d gotten in a fight.

Frank knocked on the door, just in case. Brian answered. He looked kind of skinnier and tired and his hair was sticking up at weird angles all over his head. “Oh,” he said, “Hey, Frank. Boring Saturday morning?”

Frank had forgotten it was Saturday; with no school he didn’t really care much about keeping track of the days. “Yeah,” he said.

Brian frowned. “Frank,” he asked, “where do you go to school? Do you like it?”

Frank scrunched up his nose. He didn’t _like_ school, exactly, although he’d never really considered the option of not liking it. “Alexander Hamilton Middle School,” he said. “And then I’ll probably just go to Washington Irving like all the other kids do.”

“Is it a good school? Are you learning stuff? Do you have friends?”

“Um. I guess it’s okay,” he said. “The teachers are whatever. I guess we learn stuff and stuff. But right now school sucks; I got suspended.”

“For what?”

“Fighting.”

“Jesus, Frank. Please tell me you’re not going to be a bad influence on Gerard and Mikey.”

Frank considered. He’d been called a lot of names, but never a bad influence. “I don’t start fights,” he said. “I just finish them. People should know better than to fuck with me by now. But I’m usually a really good kid.” He laughed; he couldn’t help it. Who talked about themselves like that?

Brian cracked a smile. “Oh, well,” he said. “I was just thinking about where they should be going to school.”

“Oh! I know!” Frank beamed. He told Brian all about Bob and Bob’s friend and how private school had really good music and art programs and how it would be totally awesome.

“Cool,” Brian said, and nodded thoughtfully. “Why aren’t you going there?”

Frank shrugged. “Private school is expensive,” he said. “That’s the word on the street.”

“You can probably get a scholarship,” Brian said. Frank was only like, sixty percent sure he knew what that word meant, so he just shrugged again. After a second Brian rolled his eyes and said “I’ll call your mom, okay, Frank?”

“Sure.” Frank kicked the last dripping slush off Brian’s steps. His whole yard was mud. Frank liked mud. Mud was awesome to play around in. “Hey, are Gerard and Mikey back yet?”

Brian looked like he’d swallowed something that was making him sick, or maybe he was about to throw up. He squinted down the road for a second, and then looked back at Frank. Frank could tell he was making some kind of decision. “No,” he said. “But actually they’re supposed to get here in an hour or so. Do you… Do you want to wait?”

Frank said “Totally.”


	7. Chapter 7

Brian’s plan was pretty cunning. When Claire pulled up with Gerard and Mikey he would let Frank talk to them first, so if they were still mad ( _when Gerard was still mad_ ) they’d see Frank and hopefully forget to be upset. Brian couldn’t really imagine anyone staying mad with Frank around.

When Claire’s car pulled up outside, though, Brian’s heart leapt in to his throat. The plan was maybe kind of stupid and he felt a little sick. He clicked off the TV and nodded at Frank, who was bouncing with excitement. “Go ahead,” Brian said. He had no intention of being the first one to the door.

He’d spoken to Mikey once a week or so, and every time Mikey said the same basic things. Everything was fine. Well, not Gerard. Gerard still didn’t want to talk to Brian. Everything else was fine, though. Mikey sounded sort of worried but he wouldn’t say why. When Brian talked to Claire she sighed a lot and promised Brian that everything was going as well as could be expected. That sounded kind of ominous to him, but he didn’t want to say so. He tried to be positive and sound as little as possible like he was going slowly crazy.

When she called on Thursday and told him she’d bring them by Saturday morning, Brian almost passed out. He was grateful he’d been alone in the house. It was hard to pass off “almost-passed out” as “manly gratitude.”

He was completely sure he was doing the right thing. He was completely sure he wasn’t going to back out. He was completely sure he wanted Gerard and Mikey around.

He wasn’t completely sure Gerard and Mikey were on board with that plan anymore.

From the window, Brian saw Claire get out of the car. He dug his fingers in to his leg and tried to look calm for Frank, who was giggling like a lunatic. Brian couldn’t decide if his heart was going to thump right out of his chest or if he was going to throw up all over Claire, just like the fucking girl at his fourteenth birthday party. Claire pulled a backpack out of the car and handed it to Mikey, who looked exactly the same as he had a month ago. Brian squinted. He wanted there to be something different; Mikey should have looked older or thinner or sadder or _something_ -er after a month away. But he just looked like Mikey; skinny and pale, with hedgehog hair and heavy glasses perched on the end of his nose. He trundled through the mud of the front yard with his head down and his shoulders up.

Claire opened the other car door and Gerard got out. He immediately crossed his arms and stared at the ground with a sullen expression. Gerard did look different; he was paler and a little more worn around the edges. Brian thought about how Gerard had looked the first night they’d spoken, terrified for Mikey and terrified of Brian, and it wasn’t that different from how he looked now. There was more anger, though; it radiated off him in waves.

Throwing up was seeming more and more like the correct option to Brian.

“They’re here!” Frank yelled, and bounced off the couch. At least Frank was reacting like a normal person should, Brian thought, because Frank was twelve and not terrified that Gerard had started hating him in the last month. Brian had no idea what to say to Gerard. Even “Hello” seemed loaded. What if he had screwed it up and that was _it_? What if Gerard never got over this?

Frank threw the door open and waved. Mikey looked up, and his whole face lit up. It was one of the first times Brian had seen a genuine smile from him. “Frank!” said Mikey happily. Frank, who was apparently not afraid of hurting himself ever, threw himself down the stairs and tackled Mikey right in to the mud. Mikey and Frank went down in a tiny heap of elbows and knees and mud and hair.

Claire looked comically horrified. “Oh my god, boys!” she said, and slogged her way over to them. She was wearing heels and carrying bags, which slowed her down a lot. Brian could have helped her, but it was kind of funny to watch her windmill wildly, and he was definitely not ready to step outside and face Gerard.

Frank was sitting on Mikey. “Hi!” he said. “It was so boring without you guys around. I got the new issue of Hellboy and there was no one to talk about it with. Hey, do you know this band, Fugazi? I just heard them because I was looking for new music for when you got back and they are awesome!”

“Hi,” said Mikey, who didn’t seem especially upset to be lying in the mud. “Were you waiting for us?”

“Me and Brian,” Frank replied.

Mikey propped himself up on his elbows and waved at Brian. “Hi,” he said. “You didn’t forget! See, Gee, I told you!” He tried to look backwards to see Gerard, but it was difficult with Frank sitting on him. “Ow, Frank, get off. It’s cold.”

Frank obligingly climbed off of Mikey, and Claire grabbed Mikey by the arm and dragged him to his feet. She made a perfunctory attempt to brush some of the mud off Mikey’s jacket, but he was totally coated. Claire rolled her eyes.

Frank was about equal parts mud and child. He grinned again and launched himself at Gerard. Gerard had forgotten to be sulky and difficult while he watched Frank and Mikey roll around on the lawn, and he was kind of smiling as he held his hands up to defend himself. Frank was not deterred. He threw himself at Gerard and wrapped his arms around Gerard’s neck in what was sort of a hug and sort of an attack. Gerard looked horrified but he started laughing, and Brian decided not to throw up after all. Gerard’s laugh was pretty awesome.

“Oh my god, Frank, eww,” Gerard protested half-heartedly. He laughed again when Frank redoubled his hugging efforts and they both ended up on their butts in the mud. “You’re insane,” Gerard said. He sounded pretty thrilled.

Claire half-marched half-carried Mikey up to the door. “Here,” she said to Brian, and her tone was flat, but she was smiling. “I think this is yours?”

 _God I hope so._ The moment Mikey stepped across the threshold Brian’s heart kind of… Exploded. Imploded? Burst out of his chest? All the tension and stress that had been making him miserable for the past month vanished, replaced by that same certainty he’d felt before. This was right. This was it. They were _home_.

“Hey,” said Brian, and hugged Mikey. Mikey wiggled away pretty quickly, but he looked happy. “You’re all gross.”

“Frank is gross,” Mikey shrugged. “Brian? Is my iPod here?”

“On your bed,” Brian said. He might as well have been talking to himself; Mikey was already halfway up the stairs.

Outside, Frank was trying to scowl and failing. “Where were you and why didn’t you call me?” he demanded. “I got suspended from school! We could have been hanging out _all day_. Have you seen the new Hellboy? It’s seriously awesome. You’ll love it. I want you to draw part of it for me.”

“Good idea,” Claire whispered, “inviting Frank. It will make them feel more at home.”

It would? Brian managed to smile at her as if it had been his idea on Gerard and Mikey’s behalf, instead of his own. _Score another one for the selfish jerk_. “He missed them,” Brian whispered back.

Gerard kind of shoved Frank off him and got to his feet. He was muddy, mostly where Frank had been hugging him. “Mikey and me had to go stay with other people,” Gerard said vaguely. “But we’re back now.”

“For good,” Brian interrupted.

The look Gerard gave him was somewhere between skeptical and angry. “Right,” Gerard agreed nastily, and rolled his eyes.

“Awesome,” said Frank, who had missed all the subtext. “You have to meet Bob. Bob is also awesome. Wait, I have to show you something. Come _on_ , Gerard!” He struggled to his feet through the mud and grabbed Gerard’s arm, pulling him determinedly toward the house.

Claire said “Try not to get too much mud on the floor,” which was sweet, and at this point something of a lost cause. Brian had been standing in the doorway, but he stepped aside to let the mud-covered children barrel through. Gerard didn’t even look at Brian as Frank dragged him in to the living room. Brian’s heart started to sink a little bit again.

Frank rooted through his bag for a minute and then came up triumphantly with something tiny and silver. “See?” he said triumphantly.

“What is it?” Gerard asked.

“This is my lip ring!” Frank crowed.

Claire and Gerard both looked horrified. Brian, who worked with bands for a living, and who had sort of suspected Frank was going to end up with pierced ears and maybe a tattoo, sighed. “Eww, really?” Gerard asked. He was equal parts fascinated and disgusted.

“Well, not yet. But it _will_ be. I’m going to get it right here.” Frank pointed. “They use this giant needle to—”

Gerard went a little pale and took a step backward. “Oh my god, Frank, no,” he said. “Eww, don’t. I’ll throw up.”

Frank deflated. “But it’s so cool!” he protested. “And as soon as I’m sixteen my mom says I can get it pierced!”

“So you’re just going to carry that nasty thing around for four more years?” Gerard asked.

Frank nodded. “That’s my plan. Good things come to people who wait. You know.”

Brian actually thought that might be on the big list of things Gerard no longer believed were true. “Why don’t you grab Gerard’s stuff and go upstairs and wash some of that mud off?” Claire said hopefully.

“Okay!” Frank grabbed Gerard’s bag and headed up the stairs. Gerard tried to get it back from him, but Frank was tiny, wily, and awfully determined.

It was time to behave like the grown up he allegedly was. Brian stepped in front of Gerard before he could make it up the stairs. “Hey,” Brian said, fidgeting. “I’m uh. I’m glad you’re back.”

Gerard glared at him for a second and then muttered “Sure.” He edged around Brian and took off at a run to follow Frank.

Brian sighed. Claire patted his shoulder. “It’s not going to be an easy transition,” she said. “You knew that. Gerard’s going to need a lot of time.”

Brian knew. He’d spent the last month thinking about almost nothing else, despite his lame attempts to distract himself. He also knew that a tiny little part of his brain had really hoped that as soon as Gerard got back everything would be fixed. _Stupid blind optimism._ “I think I found a school,” he said instead, “and I definitely found a tutor.”

“Wonderful,” Claire said. “I’m going to stop by every couple of weeks and make sure things are going well. If you have problems or questions,” _or if you change your mind_ , she very carefully didn’t say, although Brian heard it anyway, “please call me right away.”

As long as he was plunging in to unknown waters, he might as well get everything over with. “When can I start filling out the paperwork for permanent adoption?” Brian asked.

Claire’s eyes got a little wide. “Wow,” she said, “one step at a time, okay?”

Brian’s mother was in his head, asking him how he expected to make them stay if he didn’t really believe they would. “Just tell me.”

“Six-month trial period first is standard,” Claire said slowly. “We might be able to speed that up a little bit. But I wouldn’t even start thinking about it until October.”

 _It could be worse_ , Brian told himself firmly. By October he’d have Gerard totally won over. Really. That could seriously happen.

He sighed. “Great,” he said. “Okay.”

\ \ \ \ \

Gerard was quiet. It wasn’t the same as the silence of the first couple of days he’d spent with Brian, and it wasn’t the furious silence of the last day before he’d left, either. He was just sulky and withdrawn and spent most of his time sitting upstairs with a comic book and a scowl. Brian tried to broach the birthday-party topic and got stonewalled. Whenever Brian started a conversation, Gerard crossed his arms and glared. He answered every question Brian asked in monosyllables like “Fine,” and “I guess.” He was being, in Brian’s opinion, a real little bitch.

“He’ll cheer up,” Mikey said, when he caught Brian grinding his teeth after a particularly grumpy exchange. Brian didn’t entirely believe that. He wasn’t like Mikey; he didn’t get Gerard’s trust by default.

Plus, as near as he could tell, Gerard still wasn’t drawing. That had to mean something.

On Tuesday morning Brendon came over for the first time. Mikey was cautiously polite and a little bit tentative; he mostly stood behind Brian and craned his neck around Brian’s arm to look at Brendon from a safe distance. Gerard had to be ordered to come downstairs at all, and he sat on the couch with his feet kicked up on the end table, arms across his chest, scowling at nothing in particular and refusing to acknowledge either Brian or Brendon.

To his credit, Brendon was not put off by that. He had enough energy for any three people, and once he was done introducing himself he looked thoughtfully at Mikey and said “So, do you like The Misfits?”

A little unwillingly, Mikey asked “Who are The Misfits?”

Brendon’s face lit up. “Oh my god, The Misfits,” he said. “You will totally love them. I can tell. For serious.” And then he launched in to a ten-minute explanation about all the things that were awesome about the Misfits; the music, the makeup, the clothes, the theatrics, the music again, the live concerts, the horror-movie aesthetics. Mikey’s eyes got wider and wider.

Gerard was trying really hard not to listen or look interested. Every couple of minutes he’d look over and open his mouth to say something, and then his eyes would dart over to Brian and he’d remember that he wasn’t supposed to be talking and he’d sink lower on the couch. If Brian hadn’t been so worried about him it would have been hilarious.

“Can I put them on my iPod?” Mikey asked finally. He actually stepped out from behind Brian, too.

“Dude, of course,” Brendon said. “I have the CD in my bag. You are a Misfits guy, I can tell. They totally go to eleven.”

“I know that quote,” Gerard said, because he clearly, physically, couldn’t stop himself.

“You do?” Brendon asked. Brendon looked pretty excited, but Brendon was apparently excited about everything. Brian was a little afraid of what a conversation between Brendon and Gerard would look like if they ever both got going.

Gerard nodded and played with his sleeves for a second. “It’s from that movie. _Spinal Tap_ or whatever. I saw part of it.” He was trying really hard to sound cool and disinterested. It was pretty cute, but Brian knew if he cracked a smile Gerard would immediately stop talking.

“That’s like my favorite movie ever!” Brendon said. “Oh my god. Which part did you see?”

“The whole… They had an amp and it went to eleven,” Gerard said. “And there was like, a dwarf? I think?”

“That’s the best scene!” Brendon crowed. “Oh my god. You know the part where they’re like—” and burst in to song. Gerard was obviously enthralled, albeit unwillingly. Brian felt like it was safe to leave them alone together.

He went to work and only called home once to check up on them. There were some mildly frightening noises in the background – an industrial mixer? The microwave beeping? A siren of some kind? – which Brendon explained by saying “Oh, we’re making lunch.”

“Just as long as no one dies,” Brian said.

When he got home they were all on the couch, watching something on DVD. No one looked up when he walked in the door, which annoyed Brian for half a second, until he realized the kids were hypnotized by a movie. It looked like some kind of sci-fi thing, and then Gerard said “No way. There is just _no fucking way_ that is a bird!”

“It’s a bird of paradise,” Brendon said. He looked up at Brian and grinned. “We’re doing some science,” he said, “watching the jungle disc of _Planet Earth_.”

Neither Mikey nor Gerard could tear themselves away from the TV long enough to acknowledge Brian’s presence. They were both leaning forward, mouths open. “That bird is an alien,” Mikey said.

“That bird is totally an alien,” Gerard agreed. “That is so fucking cool.”

“Okay, we’ll watch the rest tomorrow,” Brendon said, clicking it off. “I mean, not the rest rest, because it’s seriously nine hundred hours long. But some of the rest. The rest of the jungle part. There are these spores that make ants go crazy and kill them and then explode out of their brains!”

Mikey looked a little bit scared, but Gerard was totally in love. “Oh my god,” he said. “Do you really have to go? I don’t even care if you talk about math more. I want to see the alien spores.” He looked pleadingly at Brendon.

“Tomorrow,” Brian said. Gerard immediately went in to a full-on pout, crossing his arms and throwing himself against the couch with a huffy noise and an eye-roll.

“Tomorrow,” Brendon promised. “And we can play Magic again.” He high-fived Gerard and then Mikey. It was totally sweet. Brian felt a twinge of jealousy. Gerard was certainly not interested in high-fiving _him_. Brendon seemed to notice, though, because the smile he gave Brian was a little bit apologetic. He hurried out the door and Brian tried to pretend he hadn’t been thinking about firing him just because the kids liked him better.

As soon as Brendon was gone, Brian said “So how was your day?”

“Fine,” said Mikey. Gerard didn’t answer, he just glared and stomped upstairs. Mikey fiddled with his iPod on the couch. Brian was determined to keep his temper, no matter how much he wanted to follow Gerard upstairs and throttle him. “So Brendon’s cool, huh?” Brian asked Mikey, sitting down next to him. This was what parents did, right? They talked about their day with the kids?

“Yeah,” Mikey said. “He’s funny.” Not that Mikey was a big talker even under the best circumstances. Brian stifled a sigh.

Brian wanted to be funny. He wanted Gerard to look excited when he came home, the way he did when Brendon talked. _Okay, now you’re just being childish_ , he chided himself. Brian was a grownup. He wasn’t supposed to be cool and exciting. Plus, he and Gerard were kind of in the middle of a fight right now, even if it was ninety-percent in Gerard’s head.

“Hey, Mikey,” Brian went on, “As long as I have you here. Every time you called you kept saying ‘Did you forget?’ I was wondering what you thought I’d forgotten.”

Mikey fiddled with the iPod settings some more. “Oh,” he said, “nothing. Just Gerard kept saying.”

Brian hoped at some point Brendon sat down with them and put Mikey through rigorous “this is what a sentence sounds like” training. “Gerard kept saying what?” Brian asked. Nothing that started that way would end well, he could feel it.

“That you’d forget.”

“That I’d forget _what_?” Brian asked, clenching his teeth.

Mikey shrugged. “Just. Us. He said you probably meant it when you said it, but if we were gone you wouldn’t remember.”

Brian was fluent enough in Mikey now to piece that conversation back together. Gerard had spent a month away, telling Mikey that Brian wouldn’t really want them back, that he would have forgotten all about them by the time May rolled around. It hurt. It made Brian’s stomach knot up and his throat feel too tight. It didn’t help that he was a little bit furious with Gerard to start with.

“You know I didn’t, right?” Brian asked.

“Yeah. I know. Gerard was just being mad.”

 _No, Gerard was just being scared_. Brian understood why Gerard had said that. He was trying to make it hurt less for Mikey when things didn’t work out in the end. It was understandable. It was even pretty obvious. It just really, really sucked. It explained a lot of the pouting and the stomping and the utter refusal to be a normal human being; if Gerard was happy, and then everything went away, he lost even more.

It was pointless to tell Mikey that they were going to stay when Mikey wasn’t the one who doubted it. “I thought about you both every day,” Brian said instead. Did that sound kind of cheesy? Would Mikey care if it did?

“Okay.” Mikey looked up. “Frank called and asked if we can go over there later. Can we go play at Frank’s house?”

The entire conversation was futile. Brian got that, too. He could talk until he was blue in the face and it wouldn’t make Mikey any more reactive or Gerard any more reasonable. “Sure,” he said. “Why not? If it’s cool with Frank’s mom.”

“Rad,” said Mikey, and went upstairs to tell Gerard.

There was a pattern for the next few days; Brendon came by in the morning and thrilled Mikey and Gerard with stories about concerts he’d been to or bands he knew. Brian assumed he tricked them in to doing math and reading at some point during the day, because there were always worksheets and books lying around on the floor in the afternoon. Brian got home from work and had a nice conversation with Mikey, while Gerard went upstairs and was sullen. Sometimes Frank came over to hang out, and that cheered Gerard up, but he still wasn’t human around Brian. Sometimes Gerard went to Frank’s house and no doubt talked shit about Brian behind his back.

“Give him space,” Claire counseled.

“He’ll come around,” Brian’s mom promised.

Brian wanted to storm around and stomp his feet and yell, too. He just knew it was counter-productive to act the way Gerard was, no matter how frustrated he felt.

Every day got worse until the Wednesday it was intolerable; Gerard hadn’t said a civil word to Brian in a week and a half, and Brian was this close to tearing his hair out at the roots. Brian refused to believe he’d acted this way as a kid. He refused to believe teenagers ever grew up to be real people.

Brian was standing in the kitchen, debating whether it was fair to call his mother to come over and cook, because he was tired from a lot of shit at work. “I’m going to Frank’s,” Gerard announced, flouncing in to the kitchen.

Some long-latent parenting gene Brian didn’t know he possessed kicked in. “No, you’re not,” he said. “You have to ask permission first.”

“Fine,” Gerard snapped, throwing his back pack on the kitchen counter in front of Brian. “I’m going to Frank’s house, _okay_?” He crossed his arms and stuck his chin up defiantly.

“Maybe if you asked like a civilized human being,” Brian said through clenched teeth, fighting not to totally lose his temper.

“I did!” Gerard yelled back. “You said ask and I asked!” _Which you don’t even deserve_ , his tone of voice added.

“Yeah, well you said it like a jerk,” Brian snapped. “So no. You can’t go to Frank’s.”

For a second Brian thought Gerard was going to storm right out of the house, and he had no idea what he’d do. Run after him? Drag him back home? Hold Mikey as a hostage until Gerard turned eighteen? “Fine,” Gerard said, rolling his eyes as if he’d never wanted to go out in the first place. “Be that way.” He stomped back upstairs.

“Fine then, _I will_!” Brian yelled after him, and then rolled his eyes at himself. _Good job_ , he thought. N _ow you’ve officially sunk to his level._

He still hadn’t figured out the birthday problem, and he was no longer totally sure he wanted to. He didn’t want to get rid of Gerard or anything; he was sure he could make the kid reasonable to live with again eventually. Rewarding shitty behavior just seemed like a weird way to go about fixing things. Parents weren’t supposed to give in to emotional blackmail. It was just that Brian had only been a parent for like, a day.

Brian still hadn’t talked to Frank’s mother about school, either. He knew he had to get on that soon, he just didn’t want to talk to any other parents. What if they could tell what a shitty job he was doing with the boys? Regardless of what Claire and Jeanne said, as long as Gerard kept shutting him out – literally, shutting the door to the bedroom whenever he could – Brian knew he was doing a shitty job. He’d tried asking Gerard and Mikey what they wanted to do for school in the fall, but Mikey didn’t have much of an opinion of school beyond “Be wherever Gerard is,” and Gerard had just shrugged and said “Does it matter?” in a super-snotty tone of voice.

Constant frustration was making Brian tense. He wasn’t sleeping and he wasn’t eating enough and every time Gabe made a joke at work Brian wanted to punch him in the face. It had nothing to do with Gabe; Gabe had been making the same stupid jokes as long as Brian had known him. Brian suspected he was about three days away from dragging Gerard downstairs by the ear and yelling at him until he made the kid cry again.

A tiny, nasty part of Brian hoped Gerard was still having awful nightmares so Brian could wake him up in the middle of the night and they could cry together and fucking deal with all this shit already. But if Gerard wasn’t sleeping well he wasn’t saying anything, and Mikey had apparently been sworn to secrecy.

And in three weeks, Brian still hadn’t come up with a decision about Gerard’s birthday. If the party was spectacular enough, Brian suspected, Gerard would get over himself. But Gerard refused to talk about it, and Mikey only shrugged unhelpfully. Brian considered all kinds of parties, but the fact that Gerard only seemed to know about five people in the whole world really threw a wrench in the works. Nearly all of those people were grownups, anyway. Brian was about ten minutes away from giving up on the whole party idea, except he’d sort of promised his mother and Mikey that he’d make it happen.

He should have been thinking about work and contracts or even the fact that he hadn’t spoken to an attractive woman in, what, three months? Instead he was going back and forth and back and forth in his head about what to say to Gerard, if he should say anything to Gerard at all. He was still bitter that the fucking parenting classes hadn’t said anything about dealing with fourteen-year-old’s temper tantrums. Brian was totally distracted.

And that was why he wasn’t watching carefully when he crossed the street on his way home from work. And that was why he didn’t see the car making an illegal turn. And that was why there was a squeal and a crash and everything suddenly went black.

\ \ \ \ \

The first thing Frank did was introduce Bob and Gerard. It was kind of weird. Bob was quiet anyway, so he mostly shuffled his feet with his hands in his pockets. Gerard wasn’t quiet _at all_ unless he was around people he didn’t know, and he didn’t know Bob, so… Problem.

Frank wasn’t too worried about it, though; he put a copy of _Batman Begins_ in the DVD player in his basement and within, seriously, ten minutes, Gerard was lecturing them all about the places where they’d changed Batman cannon and what Scientology really was about. Bob looked impressed.

“—lord Xenu,” Gerard said. “Totally nuts. Katie Holmes is a prisoner in that house. You can see it in her eyes, screaming for help.” He stopped and looked up kind of guiltily at Bob and Frank. “I can shut up so we can watch the movie.”

“Do you know about ninjas, too?” Bob asked thoughtfully. “There are ninjas in this movie, right? In the Chinese part?”

“Ninjas are Japanese,” Gerard said immediately.

“Cool,” said Bob, and that was pretty much that. Frank had suspected no one could resist Gerard if they just talked to him, and Bob was so awesome that Frank couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t more popular. Frank watched the rest of the movie feeling pretty smug.

Gerard had been acting kind of different since he got back from wherever he’d been; he was still the same person, but whenever Frank was over at his house there was all this weird tension in the air. Frank hated that. He invited Gerard over to his house, instead, where they could sit around in the basement and watch DVDs and plan out the comic book Gerard said he was going to draw someday. Gerard would get started about super powers and kids who fought evil and Frank would just lie on his back and stare at the ceiling and listen to him talk.

It was a week before Frank got around to asking what the deal with Gerard and Brian was. “He’s not your dad,” Frank said, “you said that. But you didn’t say what he was. Your mom’s boyfriend?” That didn’t sound right, either, because then where was their mom? Frank had come up with some awesome stories about how Gerard and Mikey were totally on the run from the FBI and Brian was the secret agent keeping track of them, but he figured if that were what was really going on, Gerard would have said so by now. Gerard sucked at not talking about cool stuff.

“He’s just… He’s Brian,” Gerard said. He pulled his hoodie up over his head and sank down a little bit in Frank’s bean bag chair. “Listen. If I tell you this, you can’t get all weird, okay?”

“Okay,” Frank said, and wondered what could possibly be “weird” to Gerard.

Gerard fiddled with his sleeves. “Me and Mikey are orphans,” he said. “Our parents died a couple of years ago, and we’re staying with Brian for a while.”

Oh. Frank hadn’t even remotely considered that in his wildest imaginings. “So he’s your adopted dad?” Frank asked.

“No. He’s just… Brian.” Gerard squirmed uncomfortably.

“Is he _going_ to be your adopted dad?” Frank asked.

Gerard hid his hands in his sleeves. “I don’t think so,” he said. “I think he’s going to get bored with us eventually. I wish he’d just get it over with. I mean, Mikey likes him a lot. But it’s kind of not fair. Like, if we unpack all our stuff and then we have to go, that would suck.”

“I don’t want you to go,” Frank said. “Is that why you guys have been fighting all the time? That _sucks_.”

Gerard just shrugged. He looked so miserable that Frank decided serious action was required, and pounced on him. He tickled until Gerard gave in and started giggling, and then they watched all the Venture Brothers DVDs Frank had gotten for Christmas. Frank didn’t bring it up again.

There were a couple of things about Gerard that were kind of weird, though, which Frank hadn’t really noticed until that conversation. Like how Gerard tried to avoid Frank’s mom and didn’t want to talk to her much. He was always quiet with people he didn’t know, but especially Frank’s mom. When Gerard came over to Frank’s house he wanted to go straight to the basement and stay there. Sometimes they’d play Magic, or this awesome game about being wizards that Brendon was teaching Gerard, or they’d read comic books. But Gerard never wanted to come upstairs for dinner. Frank’s mom wasn’t too hot on them just hanging out in the basement, and the more they did, the more she hesitated and “hmmmed” when he asked if Gerard could come over to play.

Or how Gerard would talk for hours about comics and movies and ninjas and make up awesome stories off the top of his head, but anytime Frank said “That reminds me of when I was six and I pretended the slide on the playground was an inter-dimensional portal” Gerard got all quiet. Gerard didn’t have any stories about when he was younger. Gerard didn’t have any stories about anything that had ever happened to him before he’d moved in with Brian.

The less he talked about it the more curious Frank got, but he was trying to respect Gerard’s privacy and stuff. Frank decided that when school started in the fall, if anyone gave Gerard a hard time, Frank was going to punch them in the face. Frank still harbored dreams of Gerard and Mikey ending up at his school, and maybe Bob not transferring, and then they could all hang out on the playground together and beat up all the high schoolers who picked on the middle school kids.

One evening after Gerard went home – it was staying lighter out later, and that meant Gerard could stay longer, since he didn’t have to be up for school in the morning or anything – Frank’s mom made that kind of sighing noise that meant she wanted to talk about something. Frank leaned on the counter. “What?” he asked.

“Oh, Frankie. I’m just a little worried about you is all.” His mom worried all the time, which was ridiculous. Frank was happier than he’d been in forever. He had friends to hang out with, no one hassled him while Bob was around, and he was doing better in school since he kept accidentally getting tutored along with Gerard and Mikey.

“I’m fine,” Frank assured her, and smiled.

She smiled back. “I know you are, baby. I’m just… I’m just not sure your new friend is a good person for you to be spending so much time with.”

His mother had clearly gone crazy. Gerard was _awesome_. Frank didn’t understand how anyone could fail to see Gerard’s total awesomeness. “What?” he said. “Why?”

“Well.” She had that look on her face like she didn’t want to make him sad. Frank hated that face. “He’s sort of weird, isn’t he Frankie? Always with the comic books and I heard you talking about vampires and killing people. That’s not a good thing for boys to be talking about. He just wants to sit in the dark in the basement all the time, and he’s so pale and that brother of his is even odder, and they call their father by his first name. He always seems sort of sad and depressed, and I just think you’re such a positive person, Frankie. You should be around other happy people.”

Frank rolled his eyes. “C’mon,” he said. “Gerard’s not weird. He’s just different, and he’s totally cool.”

“Frank,” she sighed. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t hang out with him. Just maybe not every day. Maybe… Once a week?”

“That’s not fair!” Frank protested. “He’s not sad or depressed like I totally would be if I were him and Mikey! And they don’t call Brian ‘dad’ because he’s not their dad!”

He could see on her face that his mom wasn’t persuaded. “I don’t know that he’s a good influence on you, sweetheart,” she said.

“Mom!” Frank was really, really torn. On the one hand, everything Gerard had said to him was told in total secrecy. Not that they’d sworn to it or anything, but Frank knew. He wasn’t supposed to say anything to anyone, and especially not to other adults. Gerard wasn’t big on adults. “Listen, can I tell you something and you won’t tell anyone?” he asked.

“Frankie,” she said, looking concerned. “You can tell me anything. You know that. Gerard isn’t on drugs, isn’t he? Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s okay now,” Frank assured her. “No one’s on drugs. It’s just, Gerard and Mikey’s parents died a while ago, and now they have to stay with Brian, and Gerard doesn’t know if they get to stay there permanently or not so he’s kind of sad, especially because Mikey really likes it. So I know he’s kind of bummed and he doesn’t talk to you much, but he’s definitely not a bad kid. I think he just misses his mom.”

Frank’s mom got a look on her face like Frank had never seen before. “What happened to Gerard and Mikey’s parents?” she asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” Frank said. “Gerard won’t talk about it.”

“Oh!” said Frank’s mom, and hugged him.

Weird. Frank wanted to squirm away but it was clear that she wasn’t letting go. “I’m fine, mom, honest,” he said, which just made her go “Oh!” again and hug him harder.

Eventually she let go, although her eyes looked kind of funny. “You know I love you, right Frankie?” she asked.

“Jeez, mom. Yeah, I know.” Frank loved her, too, but he didn’t go around _saying it_ for no reason like a total freak.

Frank’s mom wiped her cheeks off. “Do you know how long Gerard and Mikey have been with Brian?” she asked.

“A while,” Frank shrugged. “I think they lost their parents a couple years before that, though.”

She made a sniffling noise again, and Frank knew he had to change the subject or she was going to start the hugging all over again. “Can I go over there after school tomorrow?” he asked hopefully. “Gerard was going to come over here today, but I guess now he can’t because Brian said no or something. And Gerard is totally _not_ a bad influence.”

“Oh, baby, of course you can.” She patted his hand. “And I want to talk to Brian, I think. Oh, _Gerard_.” She sighed.

Mothers were so weird. Not that Frank was willing to give his up or anything. He felt really, really, really bad for Gerard and Mikey, obviously, but at least no one was crying at them or hugging them for no reason. He didn’t think he should tell Gerard that. It probably wouldn’t cheer him up.

After school the next day Frank went over to Gerard and Mikey’s house. They were working on some kind of math problem with Brendon, who was hilarious and weird in a way Frank didn’t know grownups could be. “Right,” Brendon was saying, “but which do you do first, adding or multiplying?”

“Neither?” Gerard said hopefully.

Brendon pointed to Frank. “He’s going to be on the couch, watching sharks eat humans,” he said. “You don’t get to go watch until you figure this out.”

“But Brendonnnnn,” Gerard whined, kicking his feet against the kitchen counter. He was really pretty good at that. Frank had taken some notes.

“No,” Brendon said firmly. Gerard tried puppy-dog eyes. Brendon wavered for a second and then gave in. “Okay, how about, you go hang out with Frank for like twenty minutes and then we all finish the math together before Brian gets back?”

Gerard perked up immediately. “Thank you, Brendon, you’re the best,” he said quickly and dragged Frank upstairs.

“Listen,” Gerard said, shutting the door, “Brian says he’s going to try and put me and Mikey in that school Bob is going to because it’s six-through-twelfth grade so we’d be in the same place. And Claire thinks it’s a good idea, too, so you have to ask your mom if you can transfer with Bob. Wouldn’t that be great? We’d all be at the same place.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Frank said.

Gerard dismissed that with a wave of his hand. “Of course you can,” he said, “I went on the internet and they have all kinds of scholarships for neighborhood kids because they only have rich kids and it looks bad for them or something. All we have to do is put in an application from you and a copy of one of your mom’s paychecks and we can totally get you a scholarship.”

Gerard was pretty hard to disagree with when he got all excited about stuff. “A scholarship is money for school, right?” Frank asked uncertainly.

“Exactly! We won’t be in the same grade or anything, but it would be so great to have a friend at school. I hate school. The kids suck so hard.”

“You haven’t been to this school yet,” Frank pointed out reasonably.

Gerard dismissed that, too. “I’ve been to lots of schools,” he said. “They all suck.”

“Do you get in fights?” Frank asked curiously. Despite how they’d met, he had trouble picturing that.

Gerard flopped back on the bed. “No,” he said. “Not really. I got picked on. I got a lot of shit from a lot of stupid people.”

“That’s why you have to fight back,” Frank said. He kind of hoped Gerard would say something else about school and where he’d been in the Before Brian era, but Gerard just sighed. “Want to see the new Punisher?” Frank asked.

“Oh my god, totally,” said Gerard, and Frank pretended he wasn’t a little bit excited about maybe going to school with Gerard and Mikey in the fall.

They talked comics for a while and then they went downstairs. Mikey was reading Harry Potter out loud to Brendon. About five minutes in to the story Gerard interrupted to explain about which houses he was pretty sure he and Mikey would have been sorted in to if they were wizards. Gerard, apparently, was a Slytherin, and Mikey was a Hufflepuff. Mikey got a little upset and said he didn’t want to be a Hufflepuff, and it degenerated in to what they considered a fight – no one got punched, or anything, and it would end as soon as Mikey looked sad – until Brendon stuck his fingers in his ears and went “LA LA LA LA” and they both stopped to stare at him. (Mikey and Gerard were both totally Gryffindors, in Frank’s opinion. So was Frank.)

Brian wasn’t home yet, so Brendon made them dinner, and no one reminded Frank to go back to his house, so he pretended not to remember and ate spaghetti with them. He was willing to stay at their house pretty much forever. Brendon let them watch Labyrinth on the couch with giant bowls of ice cream. Brendon was sort of the worst baby sitter ever, which was why Frank liked him so much. Mikey was a little bit scared of the movie but he wouldn’t admit it, so he just sat right next to Gerard and leaned up against him whenever David Bowie showed up.

By then it was pretty dark out and Frank was thinking he might need a ride home. Brendon was starting to look worried. “What?” Gerard asked, tearing himself away from the movie.

“Nothing. Just. Isn’t Brian always home by now?” Brendon asked. “Never mind. I’m sure he’s fine. I’m going to call him.”

There was no answer. Brendon frowned, which was maybe the first time Frank had ever seen him frown. “Okay,” Brendon said, “I’m going to call Brian’s office. Maybe he’s there late for a meeting.”

It was weird, but Frank could kind of feel Gerard sitting next to him, not breathing. Mikey bit his lip. “Brendon,” Mikey said, “everything’s okay, right?”

“Sure,” Brendon said, and smiled. It wasn’t a very good fake smile.

Gabe-at-Brian’s-work said that Brian had left the same time he always did, and that he wanted to know if Brian was ready to quit his job yet, because someone named Lou was a jerk. That made Brendon frown even more. He called Brian’s mom, the first emergency contact number he had. She said she didn’t know, either, but if Brendon had to go she’d come over and stay with the boys. Brendon said it was fine, and he’d stay. She appeared at the door about twenty minutes later anyway. There was still no Brian.

“Maybe I should go home,” said Frank. It was beginning to feel really weird in the living room, like everyone was keeping a secret that might explode.

“No,” said Gerard immediately, and then looked at Brian’s mom and Brendon. “Um. Can he stay? Just until Brian gets home?” He had sort of put his hand on Frank’s leg and was maybe-accidentally squeezing just a little bit.

They exchanged some kind of grown-up look and shrugged. “I’ll call Frank’s mother and see if he can spend the night,” Brian’s mom offered.

Brendon went back to trying Brian’s cell phone. He still wasn’t answering. Frank turned the movie back on, but it was definitely too scary now, so he switched it off and they watched South Park instead.

Brendon and Brian’s mom were talking back and forth in low voices. Frank was pretty sure Brendon would usually have gone home a long time ago, but he didn’t seem like he was going to leave the kitchen any time soon. The breath-holding feeling in the house was getting worse. It was totally dark out, and Mikey was about halfway in Gerard’s lap, chewing anxiously on the string in his hoodie. Gerard, in response, was sort of almost halfway in to Frank’s lap. Frank didn’t mind.

The house phone rang. Every single person jumped. Brendon and Brian’s mom exchanged another look, and she answered the phone. “Hello?” she said, and then, “Yes, this is his mother. Oh.” Her face went kind of pale and she put her hand on the counter to hold on. Brendon leaned in to eavesdrop. “He is? Oh, thank god. No, we’ll be there right away. Oh, dear. Thank you. No, thank you.” She clicked the phone off and handed it to Brendon. “Call the emergency number for Bill, would you please, sweetheart?”

“Who’s Bill?” Frank whispered.

Gerard was pale as a ghost, and his fingers were bruising Frank’s leg. “Jeanne,” he said, voice shaking a little bit, “Why do we need Bill? Is Brian sick?”

She looked at them and tried to smile, but there were tears in her eyes, and it was totally scary to see a grown up cry. Frank reached out automatically and petted Mikey. “Brian’s been in a car accident, sweetie. Grab your coats so we can go see him.”

Gerard ran upstairs and threw up.


	8. Chapter 8

Everything was black and fuzzy and soft around the edges. There was a funny beeping noise somewhere that was either right nearby or incredibly far away. It seemed a little weird that Brian couldn’t tell which one. He felt dizzy, too, which was even weirder, because he was pretty sure he was lying down.

Brian tried to force his eyes to open and couldn’t make it happen because someone had put sandbags on his eyelids. Someone was sitting on his chest, too; every time he tried to breathe it hurt, in a distant boy-I’m-glad-I-can’t-really-feel that kind of way. There was a suggestion of sharper pain all along his side, which made Brian a tiny bit afraid to wake up at all.

There were voices, but he couldn’t make them out, and then the voices went away and the beeping got louder. Brian tried to take a deep breath. Pain shot across his chest and down his side. That actually helped wake him up, because it hurt like a son of a bitch, and he needed to ask someone for some serious pain killers. Brian forced his eyes open a crack.

It was bright as hell. Brian shut his eyes. The light hurt. Everything hurt. He hadn’t noticed before somehow, but he hurt everywhere, from his eyes to his toes. The pain was kind of dull and still a little bit far away, but it was getting clearer all the time. Brian groaned.

He forced himself to open his eyes again. He was in the brightest, whitest, emptiest room he could ever remember seeing, and the whole thing was a little bit out of focus. He blinked a couple of times and squinted, trying to make himself see details. That wavy white wall was a curtain. The black blobby thing up there was a TV. The kid sitting all curled up in the chair by the wall was – Jesus Christ, was Gerard.

“Nnngh,” Brian said. He had intended to ask Gerard how he was, or where he was, or what the hell was going on, but his throat was not cooperating. He tried to open his mouth but his whole face felt fuzzy and out of his control.

Blurry Gerard jerked up like he’d been electrocuted. “Brian?” he breathed. “Oh, hey, Brian.” He shot to his feet and pulled open what might have been a door. “Brian’s awake!” Gerard yelled.

Brian’s head hurt. He wished Gerard would stop yelling. The room was coming a little better in to focus, but the more he could see the more he hurt. There was a weird tingling in his arm that he couldn’t work out until he looked down and saw an IV needle taped to his elbow. The beeping seemed to be some kind of machine near his head. But that didn’t make any sense; Brian wasn’t sick. He didn’t have any beeping machines in his house.

 _I can figure this out_ , Brian told himself, but he was having a lot of trouble concentrating.

Gerard appeared at his shoulder. The kid looked awful. He was paler than usual and there were huge circles under his eyes. He looked like he’d been crying.

“Brian,” Gerard said, “are you okay? Please say you’re okay. I mean, Bill says you’re okay, but that’s not the same as if you say it.”

“’M fine,” Brian managed. His mouth was dry and gross and tasted like ass.

His mother appeared behind Gerard, and she definitely had on what Brian thought of as her don’t-let-them-see-you-cry face. She was holding hands with Mikey, who was also holding hands with Frank. Brian could see Brendon and Bill standing behind them in the hallway. Apparently there was some kind of party going on, and Brian hadn’t been invited. “You’re awake,” she said, and kissed Brian’s forehead. Mikey squeezed Gerard’s hand, and Gerard squeezed back.

“Hey,” Brian said. “What the fuck?” His side hurt so much. Mikey looked almost as terrified as Gerard did, clinging to Jeanne. He edged forward and clung to his brother, instead. “This isn’t my room,” Brian said. He looked around for a second. “This is… What the fuck?”

“You were in a car accident,” Jeanne said. “Well, you got hit by a car.” She brushed the hair off his forehead and offered him some water. “We were all a little bit worried.”

“Oh,” said Brian, and felt like a real idiot as everything came together. “I’m in the hospital.” That was why everything was so white and loud and sterile and it smelled so bad. The sheets were itchy, too, now that he was awake enough to notice. Maybe he could get Bill to increase the painkillers. He tried shifting, but it made his side hurt worse. Clearly the car had won their confrontation.

“You broke some ribs,” Bill said in his doctor voice, stepping forward. “You hit your head. You’re all bruised to shit. You are really fucking lucky, you asshole. Your pupils have been responsive, your vitals are strong, and you’re going to be fine. They’ll probably keep you here for observation for twenty-four hours and then send you home to recuperate.” He leaned down and whispered “Be calm, dude. The kids have been _freaking_. Especially uh…” and jerked his head not very subtly toward Gerard.

Brian looked at Mikey and Gerard and nodded. Gerard’s eyes were as big as he’d ever seen them, and he was kind of vibrating. After a second Frank reached up and hugged him. He kept his arms around Gerard’s neck until Gerard stopped tapping his fingers and shaking like he might break apart. If Mikey got any closer to Gerard they’d be wearing the same sweatshirt. “I feel pretty good for a guy who got hit by a car,” Brian said. His voice still sounded weird and kind of scratchy.

“Don’t joke,” his mother ordered sharply. Brian wondered again how long he’d been missing, to freak her out so badly. She was normally pretty much a rock in any situation.

“Why don’t I take the boys out to the vending machine and get them something to eat?” Brendon offered nervously. “I’m glad you’re awake, Brian.” _You scared the shit out of us_ , he didn’t say, but he didn’t have to. Brian was starting to put it together – he hadn’t come home from work. Brendon had been stranded with the kids and Frank, and they’d all been worried to death.

“I’m not going,” Gerard said immediately.

“Gee,” Brendon started, but Brian shook his head.

“Let him stay if he wants,” he said. He and Gerard had lots to talk about, and if he was on enough drugs he might be able to struggle through the conversation. Gerard seemed a hell of a lot less likely to roll his eyes and storm away at the moment.

“Not a vending machine, the cafeteria,” Jeanne said briskly, prying Mikey, and by extension Frank, off Gerard. “We haven’t eaten anything since dinner, and…” She gave Gerard a look that Brian couldn’t read. “We’ll bring something back for you, young man. Come on.” She turned and hustled Brendon and the kids out.

Bill flipped through his chart for a second. “I got off work an hour ago,” he said, “So I’m going to go home. But I’ll be back in the morning. Try to get some sleep. And if a hot nurse named Vicky flirts with you, back off; I saw her first.” He grinned and fist-bumped Brian, although Brian couldn’t quite get his hand to move.

Gerard was standing anxiously by the edge of the bed, staring at Brian with his giant eyes and the same face he’d had the first night they’d met. “I’m not dead,” Brian said, because it seemed like something that needed to be clarified.

“I know. I’m… I’m really sorry,” Gerard almost-whispered back.

As always, Brian was a little mystified. “Sorry for what?” he asked. “You weren’t driving the car that hit me. You weren’t the idiot walking down the street thinking about everything except where the traffic was.”

“I’m sorry,” Gerard repeated. He played nervously with the blankets at the edge of the bed. “I thought… When they said you were hit by a car, we all kind of thought you were dead. And I... I’m sorry…” His voice broke.

The drugs were keeping Brian a little bit fuzzy, but he felt like he was missing something in Gerard’s reaction. “What are you sorry _about_?” Brian asked. He really didn’t want Gerard to start crying, especially not when he was immobile and drugged up and Mikey wasn’t there to hug him.

“I was being a brat,” Gerard said. “I was… I was so mad at you, but then I thought you were dead, like… And I was sorry I was so mad at you, and what if I didn’t get to tell you that?” He hiccupped a little bit.

Oh, Jesus. Brian had almost forgotten Gerard had been mad at him, what with the near-death experience and the way Gerard was pretending really hard he wasn’t about to cry. “Christ, Gerard,” Brian said. He needed a lot more drugs or a lot fewer drugs before he could deal with this kind of confession. “It’s fine,” he said. “I knew you were mad, and I knew why. You’re thirteen – fuck, fourteen. You’re allowed to get mad at me.”

“Right, but then you didn’t come home. And I’ve been pretty awful,” Gerard said. “You were so nice to me and Mikey and Claire kept asking if I wanted to talk to you on the phone and I said no. And I think I… I think I hoped it hurt your feelings like it hurt my feelings.” He looked intently at the bed. “But I shouldn’t have because you were being nice to us, and it’s not your fault you couldn’t keep us when you wanted to, so I’m sorry.”

“You know you’re staying this time, right?” Brian asked.

Gerard was apparently way too upset to lie. “I know you _want_ to keep us,” he hedged.

“And I’m going to,” Brian said firmly.

Gerard sighed. “I know you think so, yeah.”

Brian tried to make it more explicit. “My house is your home now. You _get_ that, right?”

“It’s _your_ house,” Gerard whispered, and stared at the floor.

Brian tried to clench his teeth, but he couldn’t really feel if he’d accomplished it through all the pain killers. He didn’t want to fight about this anymore. “Listen,” he said, “you want to know what I was thinking about when I got so distracted that I didn’t see a giant fucking car coming at me?”

Gerard looked up. “Sure,” he said. “It wasn’t – Was it me? I’m sorry I was--”

“God, no,” Brian said quickly. Gerard had to be Catholic, with all the guilt he carted around. “I was thinking about your birthday,” he said.

“Oh.” Gerard sounded puzzled. “Why?”

“Because I missed it while you were gone, and from what Mikey said it sounded like it kind of sucked.” Gerard shook his head, but Brian had anticipated the return of “really I don’t need anything” Gerard. “I tried to talk to you about this and you didn’t want to. But I was going around and around in my head about what kind of party you’d like, and why I was such a shitty person that I couldn’t figure it out. I mean, I know you, but what kind of party would you want for turning fourteen? That’s what I was distracted by.”

“I don’t want anything,” Gerard said, playing with the edge of the sheets. It was such an obvious lie.

Brian shook his head. “Uh uh,” he said. “You’re getting a god damned party. Otherwise my mother is going to knit us all sweaters.”

Gerard looked puzzled. “My birthday’s over anyway,” he said. “So it doesn’t matter anymore.”

Brian smiled. “I think I figured it out,” he said. “You ready for this?”

Gerard shook his head ‘no,’ but he was looking at Brian and not the sheets anymore.

“You and Frank and Mikey and me and maybe Brendon. My living room. The original Star Wars on DVD – not the re-releases, the original originals. Ma will make us a homemade cake; nothing from a box. We all sit around and watch Star Wars and eat until we feel sick and we stay up all night watching the whole trilogy.” He’d been on totally the wrong track before; it wasn’t huge parties and it wasn’t themes and it wasn’t huge presents. He understood Gerard every now and then. It took a while, sure, but he still got there.

Gerard’s eyes were _huge_. “We could… We could do that,” he agreed in a choked voice.

“And that would be an okay birthday party?” Brian asked.

Gerard cracked a tiny smile. “That would be an okay, yeah,” he said.

Brian was pretty sure that was first genuine smile he’d ever gotten out of Gerard all on his own. It didn’t count if it happened because of Frank or Mikey or comic books. “I want you to have an awesome birthday,” he said as sincerely as he could manage through all the drugs.

Gerard no longer looked quite so certain Brian was about to drop dead. He sat down in the chair next to the bed and curled up, hugging his knees. “I think that would be cool,” he said. “Can we invite Bob, too?”

Who the hell was Bob? “Sure, I guess,” Brian said.

“Cool,” Gerard said again, smiling.

Brian was feeling the drugs, and he was worried he was going to fall asleep and leave Gerard all alone in the room. “Hey,” he said. “Can I ask you something?”

Gerard shifted a little. “I guess so,” he said.

Brian took a deep breath. “Mikey said while you guys were gone you were having nightmares,” he said. Gerard’s eyes dropped to his sneakers. “Are you still?”

Gerard tied and untied his shoes a couple of times. “They’re not like the one you saw,” he said finally.

 _But you are having them, and they are bad_ , Brian interpreted. “You know you can wake me up, right?”

“You’re in the hospital,” Gerard said, deliberately misinterpreting him.

“I mean when I get home tomorrow.”

Gerard said anxiously “Are you sure you should be going home tomorrow? What if you have a brain aneurism? People get those from head trauma and they don’t know and then they just kind of drop dead and I don’t think they did a CAT scan on you yet so they don’t know if you have brain clots or what.”

Gerard was going to be officially cut off from the Discovery Channel when Brian got home. “Bill says I can go home, so I can go home,” Brian said firmly. “I am not going to drop dead, Gerard.”

“Of course not,” Gerard agreed, rolling his eyes, because clearly Brian was a stupid adult who had no idea how things _really_ worked.

“I’m _not_ ,” Brian insisted.

“Yeah. Okay.” Gerard yawned. He looked totally worn out, but whether it was from exhaustion or emotion Brian couldn’t tell.

“What time is it?” Brian asked.

Gerard shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “We got here a couple of hours ago, and the nurses tried to kick us out and your mom, man, she is _scary_ when she gets mad. And I think they still wanted to kick us out but Bill made them let us stay. He’s a little bit scary, too. I’m glad he’s on our side.”

Gerard wasn’t willing to concede that he and Mikey were going to stay with Brian, but at least they were all on the same side. Brian felt oddly heartened by that. “Listen,” he said, “I think I’m about to fall asleep again. It’s nothing personal.”

“Can I get you anything?” Gerard asked quickly. “Water? Um, jell-o? Do you want another blanket? Can I—”

“I don’t want anything,” Brian said. “I’m totally fine. Thanks.” _You’re speaking to me again, which is more than worth getting hit by a car_ , he thought, and then pretended he hadn’t, because how fucking sappy were the drugs making him, Jesus.

Brian fell asleep before Gerard did, but not by much.

\ \ \ \ \

Going home was fucking hilarious. Brian had to be wheeled out in a wheel chair, which Gerard wanted to push. Brian felt like that was a pretty bad idea. Bill managed to sneak away from work to orchestrate the whole thing, while Brian’s mom, who’d spent the night at home with the kids, sat in the car and laughed at him. Brendon had spent the night, too, and Brian needed to give him some kind of hazard pay, because he was running interference between Mikey and Gerard so that only one person at a time was allowed to push Brian’s wheel chair. It was a little bit like being in the middle of the circus.

Brian was tired and grumpy and his ribs hurt like fuck. Everything hurt like fuck, actually. He wanted to snap at the kids to back the hell off and leave him alone so he could just _go home already_ but the look on Gerard’s face was still fragile, and Mikey wasn’t too happy either. Brian could tell, because Mikey refused to let his brother out of arm’s reach. Mikey could be really protective of Gerard when he thought Gerard was upset.

Brian worked hard not to bark at anyone on the ride home. He worked even harder when Gerard and Mikey tried to help him walk in to the house. They weren’t quite tall enough to lean on, so it actually just made everything slower. Brian couldn’t say so, though. It would have been like kicking really earnest puppies.

When he finally got upstairs and in to his bed – the next house he bought was going to be all on one fucking floor, thank you – Gerard hovered in the doorway biting his lip until Brian finally sighed and rolled his eyes. “What?” he demanded in a much meaner tone than he’d meant to.

“Just. Do you need anything? Can I get you anything?” Gerard kicked his sneakers against the rug. “Your mom is cooking, if you want anything to eat.”

Brian wanted to go to sleep, and maybe a bottle of Vicodin. “I’m fine,” he said.

“Okay. I can stay here, though, if you need anything later and I can—”

“No,” Brian said, trying for firm and slipping back in to snappy. Gerard flinched. Brian took a deep breath, which turned out to be a bad idea because it made his ribs hurt again. “Gerard, if you stay in the doorway like a gargoyle I will not be able to sleep, and that’s what I actually need right now. Bill said so, right? Give me a couple of days and I’ll be all better. But I have to spend those days resting.”

“Okay, well, I can make sure Mikey and Brendon are quiet so you can sleep,” Gerard offered. He hesitated. “I said I was sorry, right?”

 _You did not make a car crash in to me with your bad luck_ , Brian thought, and sighed. _Some day you will even believe that_. “About a hundred times. And you don’t have to be sorry for anything,” Brian said. Gerard was already heading downstairs.

“Yo, you guys, you have to be quiet!” Gerard yelled.

Brian didn’t remember being so unintentionally hilarious when he was a teenager, but he did remember adults snickering a lot. At the time it had made him bitterly resentful. Now it made him roll his eyes. No wonder kids thought adults were idiots.

He leaned back and tried to get comfortable, but it was really hard to figure out a way to lie without his ribs screaming at him in pain. He couldn’t turn on his side but he couldn’t breathe that well on his back. His head hurt, too. He needed more drugs. He wondered if he could call Bill and beg for drugs, or if it would be faster just to call Gabe.

As if his phone could read his mind, it rang. Brian flailed for a minute before he could grab it, because he couldn’t just roll over. He felt like a beached whale. “Hello?”

“Mr. Schechter? It’s Frank Iero’s mother.”

Oh, mother of god. Brian was so not ready to deal with her. “Hey,” he croaked, “How are you?”

“Frank says you’re in the hospital?” she asked. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m home now, actually,” Brian said. He wondered if he could fake some kind of coughing fit and hang up on her. “I just had a little run in with a car. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“Well, I was just thinking about Mikey and Gerard. They’re such… Well, they’re such interesting boys. And I wanted to make sure you didn’t need someone to come over and watch them while you were under the weather.”

The very last thing Brian wanted was yet another person hovering over him while he lay in bed and felt sorry for himself. “Oh, Mrs. Iero, thanks, but--”

“I mean, those poor little boys.”

Poor little boys? That stopped Brian for a second. Since Mikey and Gerard had been wearing clothes that fit and generally looked clean and well-fed he didn’t think most people thought “poor little boys” when they met them. “Weird little boys,” sure. “Did Frank tell you something about them?” Brian asked carefully.

“Just that they’re all alone in the world,” she said, and sniffled. Brian stifled a sigh. “I mean, I knew something was wrong with them. That Gerard, he just likes to sit in the basement for hours. I knew he was depressed. You can see it on his little face.”

Brian was pretty sure you couldn’t, actually. Mostly what he saw on Gerard’s face was worry and occasionally contempt. “Well, they’re with me now,” he said. “So they’re not alone.”

“Poor little dears,” she said again. He remembered something Gerard had said during a particularly grumpy afternoon about wanting to avoid Frank’s mom at all costs. Brian kind of got it now.

“Hey,” he said, “I wanted to talk to you about school next year. I’m thinking about putting Gerard and Mikey in private school, and it would be great for them if Frank was there, too. There are all kinds of scholarships for neighborhood kids.” He didn’t want to insult her by saying that he knew Frank couldn’t afford it, so he fished around for something appropriately parental. “Uh, a smart kid like Frank would have a really good chance to get ahead there.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Frank gets in trouble a lot.”

“Well, uh, maybe he’d get in trouble less if he was at a different school with more friends,” Brian offered. Normally he was pretty good at persuasion, but between the pain and the pain-killers he just wanted to hang up. “I’m going to call the school about Gerard and Mikey; why don’t I pick up an application for Frank, too, and bring it by?”

“I suppose so,” she said fretfully. “You’re sure you don’t need anything? I can make soup.”

“No, thank you,” Brian said. Was this the other shoe of parenting? Dealing with parents all the time? Because it kind of sucked. “My mother’s already here, cooking.”

“Oh, well then. I’ll tell Frankie he shouldn’t come over today. We’ll give you some time to recuperate.”

Brian thought about being trapped in the house while Gerard had nothing to do but check up on him. “Please send Frank over. Please.”

She laughed. “He’ll be thrilled to come by. And if you ever need anyone to watch the boys, let me know. Those poor little lambs.”

Brian hung up and closed his eyes. He was definitely not ready to deal with parents. If he sent Mikey and Gerard to school would he have to join the PTA? Was he going to have to bring pot luck food to school dinners? Would someone tell him what a “pot-luck dinner” was? Brian didn’t know how to cook anything. He wondered if he could get his mother to cook for him.

His phone rang again. Brian groaned. Gerard yelled “Brian? Do you need anything?” from downstairs.

 _Drugs. Lots more of them._ “No,” he yelled back, and picked up.

“Where the hell are you?” Gabe said. “Lou is shitting a brick, dude.”

Oh, fuck. No one had called work. “Just got out of the hospital, actually,” he said. “I got hit by a car yesterday. I’ll have the doctor fax something over.”

“Oh,” said Gabe, “that sucks. You’re not dead, though, right? Because Lou kind of said if you weren’t dead you had better get in here.”

“I’m on bed rest for at least three days,” Brian said. “I’ll be in next week.”

“Okaaaaay,” Gabe said, “But he kind of wants you to go to LA this weekend.”

Brian gritted out “And I kind of want Lou to get punched in the face. Everybody wants something.”

Gabe said “I’ll tell him about the hospital thing. He’ll totally blame Gerard and Mikey and call you to scream in an hour, but I can distract him with donuts. It’ll buy you a day or two. If he keeps sending Ryan out on all your jobs in LA he’s just going to give him your job, you know that, right? And that kid is _weird_.”

Brian super did not care at all at the moment, but he appreciated the warning. “Tell Lou I’m injured and I can’t come in, and if he doesn’t like it can fuck himself.”

“Dude, I would like nothing better than to tell him that. I kind of feel like maybe we should hold off on it until we start our own management company, though.”

“Would you shut up about that? I’m not on enough pain killers to deal with you,” Brian grumbled. “Seriously, Gabe, call me back tomorrow.”

Gabe sighed dramatically. “Someday you’ll understand how much you love me,” he threatened, and hung up.

Brian turned his phone off.

He dozed for a couple of hours, and finally fell asleep, only to be reawoken by Bill stopping by to check on him. Gerard lurked in the doorway while Bill checked his ribs, until Brendon came up and dragged him back downstairs.

The next day was pretty miserable, but at least Brian could move around. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t been hurt worse by being run over by a fucking car. He felt better enough to come downstairs and sit on the couch, at least, which was a huge improvement. He and Mikey watched TV, while Gerard mostly sat and watched Brian.

Claire was horrified that he’d been in an accident and hadn’t notified her, but Brian just put Mikey on the phone and let him subdue her with his awesome non-sequiturs. It was totally one of Brendon’s days off but he showed up anyway and played dungeons and dragons with Gerard and Frank to distract them. Jeanne showed up with more food, too. Brian was happy; it felt pretty fucking familial.

By the time Brian went back to work he could stand and sit and walk, as long as he had a handful of Advil to keep him company. Lou, of course, was a total bitch about everything. Brian tried to ignore him. When Lou stormed in to his office to yell at him for missing work, Gabe sat outside the window and made faces the entire time. Brian needed to remember to tell Gabe that he was pretty awesome. Brian smiled big and promised that he wouldn’t get hit by any more cars, because he needed the job so he could keep the kids. That was just enough to persuade him to keep his head down and go over the contracts.

 _I really loved this job at one point_ , Brian thought, and wondered when that had changed, exactly. He still loved the _idea_ of the job. It was just the actual going-to-work part he hated.

Saturday night was Gerard’s birthday party. Frank showed up with three different kinds of pie his mom had baked, and also a kid named Bob who apparently didn’t talk. Brian would have worried about that except Gerard hugged him hello and then picked up in the middle of a conversation they’d clearly been having a few days earlier. “Bob! See, _that’s_ why I said we have to start a band.” He made Bob sit on the couch with him while Gerard talked at him about drums for half an hour. Bob didn’t seem to mind.

Brian had been a little worried that Mikey would feel left out during a party for Gerard, but Mikey was completely confident about his place in Gerard’s world. Frank and Bob and Gerard had made themselves comfortable taking up the entire couch, so Mikey just walked over and said “Gee,” and Gerard automatically scooted over to make room. Mikey ended up half on Gerard and half between Gerard and Frank, totally unconcerned about the fact that when he talked he kept elbowing his brother in the face accidentally.

Brendon made popcorn with M’n’Ms mixed in and Brian turned on the movie. Gerard and Frank immediately started saying _every single line_ along with the film, but it was Gerard’s birthday, so he got to quote along if he wanted. Brian pretended not to hear.

When Luke and Obi-Wan got off Tatooine, Gerard and Frank started recreating light saber fights using a broom and a mop, which seemed a little dangerous. Brian made them stop. Instead, they decided to recreate the entire movie, with Gerard as Luke Skywalker and Frank as Han Solo. They immediately recruited Brendon to be Darth Vader. Brendon was super excited and wheezed asthmatically all over the living room. It only took another thirty seconds for Frank to realize that Bob would be an awesome Chewbacca, while Gerard spent a few, futile minutes trying to make Mikey be Princess Leia. Mikey didn’t even dignify that suggestion with a response.

“But she’s the only one left, and she kicks ass!” Gerard pointed out reasonably.

“I’m R2D2,” Mikey said flatly, and Gerard gave up.

“And Brian can be Emperor Palpatine,” Frank announced magnanimously. A week earlier Brian would have been pretty upset to be the Emperor, but now he felt okay about it.

As nerd parties went, it was awesome. No one seemed to be in danger of throwing up except Brendon, who ate a whole pie by himself. The third movie didn’t end until almost three in the morning, by which time Mikey was dead to the world on the floor and Frank wasn’t much better. Brian and Brendon unrolled a bunch of sleeping bags and let the boys arrange themselves however they wanted on the living room floor. Then they went upstairs and pretended not to hear them talking all night.

“I feel so old,” Brendon whined, staggering up the stairs.

“You’ll never be fourteen again,” Brian agreed. His ribs still hurt a little, and he was sort of drunk with exhaustion just watching Gerard and Frank run around the living room.

“Thank god,” said Brendon.

Brian expected to sleep for a week, but he woke up a couple of hours later with no idea why. He rolled out of bed and staggered downstairs just in case someone was homesick or feeling sick after all the cake.

Apparently Brian’s parental spider-senses had been tingling. Gerard was sitting on the stairs, watching everyone else sleep. Brian sat down next to him, incredibly thankful that this week Gerard would let him. “Hey,” he whispered. “What’s up?”

“I woke up,” Gerard said uncomfortably. “I don’t know. I guess I had a nightmare.”

Not one of the screaming, crying ones, clearly, but it still made Brian itchy. “Yeah?” he said. If it had been Mikey or Frank he would have put his arm around them. It was Gerard, though, and Brian was afraid of pushing. Everything was still delicate. “What was it about?”

Gerard shrugged. “Just. Mom and dad,” he said. “I don’t... I haven’t dreamed about them in a long time.”

 _Jesus Christ, the kid can’t catch a break_. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Nice birthday, huh?”

“No,” Gerard said. “The party was awesome, honest.” He managed a smile. “It’s just, when you were in a car accident they were kind of all I could think about for a couple of days, so it’s not too surprising. But it feels sort of far away now.” He sighed. “I miss them.”

Brian couldn’t imagine how Gerard had felt, or how he had reacted to the news about Brian. No wonder his mother and Brendon had looked so shell-shocked. “Are you having nightmares otherwise?” Brian asked. “Like Mikey said you were. While you were gone.”

Gerard leaned against the banister. “I don’t so much here,” he said. “It’s better.”

“Gerard,” Brian said. He took a deep breath, and winced. His ribs were still raw. So much for bracing himself. “You know if you have nightmares, or you want to talk about your parents or whatever… I’m here.”

He was kind of hoping for some magical breakthrough. Maybe Gerard would cry again. Maybe he’d lean against Brian like he really trusted him. Brian would have settled for any of that.

“That’s really nice of you,” Gerard said instead, which was kind of distant and formal and made Brian wince.

“Jesus,” he said on a long exhale, “tell me what I have to say to you to convince you that you’re staying. How do I get you to acknowledge that this is home, now? Tell me what to do and I’ll do it, Gerard. I’m serious.”

Gerard opened his mouth and then stopped, reconsidered, and shrugged. “I don’t think you can,” he said. It was a weird moment of total honesty. “I think… I mean... Mikey really likes it here.” _And what about you?_ Brian almost demanded, but caught himself. “It’s just… Things don’t work out, Brian. There’s always something else coming up. You’re happy now, but you’re having trouble at your job because of us, right? And you have to spend money on Brendon. What if you get sick of us next year? What if you get a girlfriend and she doesn’t like that you have a couple kids that aren’t even yours? What if you get sick? Stuff always happens.”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” Brian said firmly. “I mean, I already got hit by a fucking car. What else can happen?”

“Lots of stuff,” Gerard sighed. “You’ll see.”

“Dude, it would take a disaster of epic proportions. And I won’t let that happen.”

Gerard smiled a little sadly. “This really was an awesome birthday,” he said. “The best one in a long time. Thanks. I’m gonna go check on Mikey.” He got up and went downstairs.

So close. So far. Fucking teenagers. Brian sighed and went back to bed.


	9. Chapter 9

It was the best summer Frank could ever remember. It was the first time there was stuff to do every single day. As soon as school ended he started waking up early – like, at eight – and racing over to Gerard and Mikey’s house. He usually got there about the same time as Brendon. He and Gerard would suffer through a couple of hours of math and stuff before Brendon gave up and let them go outside to do whatever – sometimes they went and found Bob and talked about the band they were totally going to start in the fall when they met Bob’s friend who played guitar. Other times Gerard would work on drawing his comic book with Frank’s helpful input. Mostly “You should draw more blood there,” and sometimes “It would be cool if everyone died.” A lot of the time Mikey came along, too, which was cool; Frank wished sometimes he could get Gerard all to himself, but Mikey was awesome, and they were a package deal. You didn’t get just one Way brother.

Gerard was fascinating to Frank in a way no one ever had been before. Frank couldn’t have put it into words – and he tried a couple of times for his mom – because it wasn’t anything that Gerard did. It was just that he was so _Gerard_ and he did it _all the time_. Frank figured this was what his mom meant by “Things will be different when you’re a teenager.” Now there was _Gerard_.

Sometimes Brendon took them places. Frank could not believe anyone had given Brendon a driver’s license, but there you were. Brendon took them to museums a lot, which was pretty cool. Frank had never been to one before, and he suspected neither had Gerard and Mikey. When they walked in the first time Brendon said “That painting is five hundred years old.” Gerard’s eyes got _huge_ and he walked straight in to a bench because he was staring so hard. Frank and Mikey got bored after an hour and played tag until Brendon threatened to lock them both in the car to let them die like dogs. Gerard would have stayed all day. Actually, Gerard refused to leave until Brendon grabbed him and shoved him toward the exit. It helped that Mikey kept complaining “Gee, I’m _bored_.” Frank was bored, too, but the hypnotized look on Gerard’s face was totally worth it.

Bob was off doing drumming things a lot, because he was part of some kind of drum corps and he took it really seriously. When he was around, though, he was totally down for anything, including things that terrified Gerard. Frank liked to climb to the second floor of his house and stand in the window looking over the driveway and then jump out and try to land on people. Gerard was too scared. Bob was willing to go up to the window, but when he got there he considered for a little while, and then changed his mind. “I think I’d kill Mikey if I landed on him,” he said, and climbed back down. For this offense of totally wimping out Frank climbed Bob instead, and sat on his shoulders until they both crashed in to Frank’s mom’s car.

Some days it was too hot to go outside (Gerard thought pretty much always, Frank pretty much never) so they stayed in and watched TV, or played Everquest, and Brendon offered to give them guitar lessons. Mikey and Frank picked it up pretty quickly, even if Frank wasn’t playing what Brendon wanted because he was inventing his own awesome thrashing. Gerard fucked around with it for a couple of days and then decided it hurt his fingers and it was too hard. He spent his time drawing them as a band instead, wearing skull uniforms.

At the end of the summer, a couple of weeks before Mikey’s birthday, Brian came home one day with a big grin and asked Mikey if he maybe wanted to go to a real concert to celebrate a little early. Frank had never seen Mikey so excited. He actually jumped up and down a few times. Brian’s contact at work had given him tickets to see Bon Jovi.

Frank went over the next afternoon. Mikey was almost fucking passed out from sheer joy. Gerard was only slightly less psyched. They were exhausted and they smelled a little gross and Frank had to say everything to them twice because they couldn’t hear him over the ringing in their ears. Gerard talked for hours about how amazing the concert was. He repeated the set list about seventeen times, and every time he got more excited about it. Mikey just sat on the couch and looked blissful. They were so happy Frank barely felt left out.

There were only a couple of things about the summer that weren’t so great, and even those Frank dealt with okay. Like when he broke his wrist. If it had been doing something cool it would have been fine, but all that happened was they were playing kickball in the parking lot across the street. Gerard sucked _so hard_ , it was _hilarious_ , and Frank was laughing and running too fast and tripped and caught himself and his wrist started to hurt. He didn’t think it was a big deal, but Gerard insisted they show Brendon, and Brendon insisted they call Frank’s mom, and by the time they got to the hospital Frank was totally over the whole thing. He kind of liked the way it made Gerard super-attentive, but he could have done without all the X-rays and the waiting. It got fun again when they gave Frank a shot of painkiller. It made Gerard go all pale and he had to sit down because the doctor thought he was going to faint. Frank couldn’t stop laughing. And then it got boring again with his cast, which Frank was pretty sure was going to ruin his whole vacation.

But it didn’t; Gerard drew monsters all over his arm in Sharpies Brendon bought special for him, and then when Frank got sick (because Frank always got sick eventually) Gerard wrote stories about how Frank had killed all the monsters on his cast in awesomely gruesome ways. The cast was a memorial, Gerard explained seriously, where all the monsters’ spirits were trapped, howling like the damned. After that, Mikey refused to sit next to Frank on the side where he had his cast. When Frank called him out on it Mikey claimed it wasn’t comfortable because Frank kept hitting him with it. Whatever. Frank knew the truth. Mikey was totally scared.

Since Frank had talked to her, his mom had a tendency to try and hug Gerard all the time, which was funny because it really freaked Gerard out. He’d come over and she’d block the door to the basement and hug him and offer him food and ask how he and Mikey were “holding up,” and Gerard never had an answer to that except to look kind of nervous and shrug. Frank’s mom had totally confused “I don’t know, crazy lady” with “My life sucks and I’m sad inside,” so it just made her hug him more. Frank considered being jealous, but he decided he was willing to share his mom with Gerard and Mikey, since they only had Brian. He was an okay dad, but no kind of mom at all.

Gerard helped Frank fill out some stupid essay about why he wanted to go to private school, which he didn’t, except his friends would be there. Gerard said he couldn’t just write that. He helped Frank make up an awesome story about how Frank had always dreamed of playing guitar – and if “always” meant “since he met Bob and Brendon,” then fine – but the local public school system was under-funded and stifling his dreams. Gerard wanted to splash some water on the essay and pretend like Frank had been crying while he wrote it, for authenticity, but Brian said no. Gerard was totally confident that Frank would get in, so Frank decided not to worry about it. Worrying about things never helped.

Most of the summer passed in an awesome haze of hanging out. If school was going to be half this fun, Frank couldn’t wait.

\ \ \ \ \ \

Stress at work was starting to kill Brian a little bit. He was coming in to work early so he’d already be at his desk when Lou got there, and Brian could avoid him. He left a little bit early, too; he liked being home and hanging out with Gerard and Mikey and Brendon and Frank, who had apparently moved in for the summer. Bob showed up now and then, too. Brian liked Bob. Bob never caused trouble or started screaming for no reason. Bob was clearly very cool.

Other things were eating at Brian; Gerard had stopped being a holy terror all the time, but he wasn’t happy, either. Brian was a little bit proud of himself because he was getting pretty good at picking up on Gerard’s subtler moods. Gerard was happy enough talking to Mikey and Frank, and he was always psyched to talk to Brendon about stuff, but he wasn’t empirically happy on his own. There was a weird tinge of sadness to everything Gerard said and did that Brian called Gerard’s “waiting for the other shoe to drop” face. Claire kept telling him it would just take time and eventually Gerard would come around. Brian privately suspected it would require an act of god.

Montrell called in early August to tell Brian that Mikey and Gerard were both accepted for the fall, and that he owed the school a lot of money. Frank got in, too, with a giant scholarship, possibly because Brian had asked Gabe to make a couple of phone calls and do whatever necessary to make it happen. Gabe fucking loved that kind of stuff. Brian made Brendon take them all shopping for school supplies and school uniforms, because Brian didn’t want to listen to Gerard say “But I don’t _want_ to wear a tie” two thousand times in a row. They came home with jackets and ties, and also half of Staples’ supply of markers and sketch pads. Brian would have been annoyed, but he was pretty excited Gerard was drawing again. Sure, he was mostly drawing monsters killing and attacking Brian, but it was all about baby steps. His nightmares, for example, had almost entirely stopped.

Brian gave Brendon a gift card for iTunes for a hundred bucks as a thank you. Brendon’s eyes got all big and shiny, and he flailed wildly for a minute and then hugged Brian so tightly Brian couldn’t breathe. Brian didn’t actually mind.

On Saturday Frank came over and dragged Mikey and Gerard outside for “one last game” of kickball, which Brian found kind of hilarious. He was pretty sure Gerard and Mikey hated playing kickball, and only ever pretended because it made Frank happy. “Can I come watch?” he asked.

Gerard looked reluctant, but Mikey said “Of course, if you keep score,” and Frank shrugged. They went down the street to the playground and Brian sat on the see-saw and tried to keep score. It wasn’t as easy as it sounded; he had no idea how the three of them were divided up in to teams. As near as he could tell it was Frank versus Gerard, but if Frank tried to score against Gerard then Mikey would trip him, and if Mikey got the ball Gerard would insist it was a foul. Brian wasn’t even sure there were goal lines. They might as well have been playing Calvinball.

After a few minutes a couple of other kids showed up on the playground. It was the last weekend of the summer, and it wasn’t too hot outside. Brian was surprised there weren’t more people around. These particular kids came accompanied by a hot mom in inappropriate jean shorts, so it was more than okay with Brian when her kids decided to play kickball, too. Gerard and Mikey looked pretty uncertain about it, and understandably so; the other boys were younger but they were faster and more skilled and the teams – them versus Gerard, Frank, and Mikey – weren’t very evenly matched.

They could handle it, Brian decided and smiled when hot mom sat down next to him on one of the swings. “Thank god they’ll be back in school soon,” she said, and laughed.

“Yeah,” Brian agreed. This kind of talking to other parents he could handle. His flirting skills were rusty, but he managed a smile. “They’ve been destroying the house all week.”

“I love my kids, but I can’t wait to get them out of my hair,” she sighed.

Brian felt a tiny twinge. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be at the point where he’d just flat-out be able to say “I love my kids” to anyone. It was too weird. Were they really his? Was he allowed to say he loved them? He tried not to think about it. “One more week,” Brian said.

Another family showed up on the playground; the dad was wearing socks and sandals and a Smashing Pumpkins t-shirt, and Brian considered striking up a conversation with him about the band’s reunion tour. The boy he’d brought immediately ran over and stole the kickball, taking a shot at the goal and scoring. The boys who’d come with hot mom cheered; Gerard rolled his eyes. The dad also had a girl with him, who immediately grabbed a swing, and he came and stood behind her, pushing.

“Everyone’s out today,” said the mom to Brian, who nodded. He felt like he wasn’t quiet fluent in the language of grownups hanging out on the playground yet.

Smashing Pumpkins Dad squinted. “Those boys are pretty good,” he said. “Real talented.” Brian knew he wasn’t talking about Gerard and Mikey, and he bristled a little bit. Gerard and Mikey were plenty good at other things.

“Thanks,” said hot mom, and smiled at him.

“Who are the weirdoes?” asked the dad.

“My kids,” Brian growled. _Asshole_. He nearly opened his mouth to tell Gerard and Mikey that they were going home and stopped himself. He wasn’t the one on the playground. He was the grownup. He could behave himself like a mature person. Gerard and Mikey didn’t care if random strangers thought they were weird; they _were_ weird.

“No offense, buddy. They just aren’t very coordinated, are they?” He kind of laughed. “Not everyone can be athletic.”

 _Shut the fuck up_ , Brian didn’t say. Hot mom looked at him sympathetically. He hadn’t ever considered being embarrassed by Mikey and Gerard before; they were awkward, but they were also awesome. Brian decided the guy’s t-shirt was a sign that he was a total tool. Screw him.

The dark-haired kid who’d shown up with his dad took another shot at the goal and hit Gerard, instead. Brian was pretty sure it hadn’t been an accident. He forced himself to bite his lip and not jump in. Gerard looked upset, but not especially surprised. Brian was so grateful Gerard had met Frank a couple of months ago. It gave him a buffer against these brats, who were laughing their heads off. He forced himself not to grind his teeth. Gerard hadn’t been kidding; if this was any kind of indication, school was going to be a fucking disaster.

“Stop,” ordered Frank, picking up the ball. “If you’re going to be an asshole you can’t play.” Brian fucking loved Frank.

“Oh, did I hurt the poor little baby?” sneered the kid. Brian stood up and then made himself sit back down. Gerard was fourteen. He would absolutely not appreciate Brian throwing himself in the middle of this and treating him like a little kid.

“Shut up,” Gerard muttered.

“Yeah, shut up!” Mikey repeated, with a lot more conviction.

Mikey wasn’t remotely threatening even on his best day, but the dark-haired kid was standing right next to him, so that was where he turned. “You shut up!” he snapped.

“Don’t tell my brother to shut up!” Gerard said, starting over. Frank was hot on his heels.

“Yeah?” sneered the kid, who totally got his shitty attitude from his dad. “How about this?” He shoved Mikey.

“Hey!” Gerard yelled.

Okay, clearly things were escalating and it was time for parental involvement whether Gerard would appreciate it or not. Brian got to his feet again, but the other dad was already on his way over.

When Mikey didn’t really react the kid laughed and shoved him again, this time hard enough that Mikey ended up on his ass on the concrete. Gerard ran in to the kid at full-speed, knocking him over, too, yelling “I said leave him alone!”

A couple of things happened really quickly.

The other dad broke in to a run and grabbed Gerard by the arm. He yanked him to his feet and yelled “Get your hands off my kid!”

Gerard flinched, and something flashed across his face that had nothing to do with this particular man who was holding his arm too tightly and shaking him. Brian saw the terror all the way from the see-saws. It was the same look Gerard had had way back when he’d thought Brian was mad that he’d found the box of comics.

Brian’s vision went kind of hazy and red.

He wasn’t sure how, but all of a sudden he was clear across the playground with his hands around the other man’s throat, shoving him in to the wire fence. The other guy was taller, but Brian was much, much angrier. “You touch him again and I will _kill you_ ,” Brian promised, and pushed his forearm across the other man’s throat.

“Brian!” Gerard said, a little panicked. “Brian, stop!”

The guy made a wheezing, choking noise and his eyes started to roll up in his head. Brian wanted blood. He wanted to squeeze until this dude’s head fucking popped off. Gerard tugged urgently at his arm and said “ _Brian!_ ” again.

Brian stepped back. He took a long breath and shook his hands out. He was tingling all over and his mouth tasted like copper. “Did he fucking hurt you?” Brian demanded.

Gerard shook his head, wide-eyed.

Brian’s heart was pounding in his ears. “Because I will fucking kill him if he hurt you, Gerard. Okay?” Brian said. He sounded really angry, and Gerard took an involuntary step backward. Brian closed his eyes for a second and tried to calm down. Yelling at Gerard was counterproductive. “Is Mikey okay?”

“We’re all fine, Brian. Honest. You didn’t have to—Frank! Stop it!” Brian turned. Frank was totally pounding the snotty kid’s head in to the pavement. It would have been hilarious, because Frank was half that kid’s size, but Brian saw blood starting to pour down his face.

“Fuck,” Brian muttered, and grabbed Frank by the back of the shirt, pulling him clear.

“You don’t shove Mikey!” Frank hollered furiously. “I will fuck you up!”

It was close enough to what Brian had said that he felt like he couldn’t condemn it much. He turned back and pointed a threatening finger at the dad, who was rubbing his throat and coughing. Brian wished he’d choked the guy until he’d passed out. “You and your fucking kid had better get out of our neighborhood,” Brian said.

“I’ll call the cops,” the guy said. He sounded pretty raw.

“Go ahead,” Brian snarled. “Fucking _try_ me.”

Gerard and Brendon had watched a documentary a couple of weeks earlier where two lions fought over dominance of their pride, mostly by staring each other down. Brian felt a lot like that. He would have bared his teeth if he’d thought it would help. He sure as hell didn’t blink.

After a long, uncomfortable minute, the guy said “Fine,” and jerked his head at his kids. “This is a shitty neighborhood anyway.”

Brian still had a hand on Frank and he reached out with the other one to grab Gerard. “We’re going home,” he ordered, half-dragging them toward the street. Mikey dusted himself off and jogged after them. Gerard was still looking a little bit shell-shocked, which made Brian furious all over again.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Gerard said, stumbling down the sidewalk.

“Yes, I fucking did,” snapped Frank. Brian nodded. He and Frank were totally on the same page.

“I mean, I can take care of myself!” Gerard protested.

Frank and Brian exchanged a look. If he wanted to think that, then fine. It didn’t change either of their expressions one bit.

“Claire’s going to be mad,” Gerard added.

Brian winced. Oh. Yes. She probably would be. He tried to imagine how it would have gone if the other guy had actually called the police. He hadn’t stopped to consider the consequences of being arrested. He was pretty sure he would have immediately lost Gerard and Mikey. He’d just been so fucking angry. No one got to make Gerard look scared like that, ever again. Brian would kill them first.

Brian’s hands started to shake just a little bit. “Fuck,” he said succinctly.

“Yeah,” Gerard agreed.

\ \ \ \ \

Brendon’s classes were starting up again, which meant he couldn’t come by every day anymore. Brian couldn’t tell who was more devastated, Brendon or Mikey. “But can’t you come by on Monday?” Mikey asked.

“I have class all morning and band practice all afternoon,” Brendon said.

“Okay, Tuesday.”

“More classes and music ensemble.”

“Wednesday?”

“Dude,” said Brendon miserably, “I have _classes_. I have to go and I have to ace them or I lose my scholarship.”

Mikey had been taking lessons in emotional manipulation from Gerard. He very deliberately let his lower lip tremble just a little bit and said “But don’t you _like_ us anymore?”

Brendon fell backward on to the couch. “Oh my god, Mikey Way, that is not _fair_ ,” he said. “You guys are awesome. Please don’t look at me like that.” He looked up at Brian. “I don’t suppose you want to hire me full-time forever so I can drop out of college, do you?”

Brian kind of did, but he figured if they let Mikey know he could have anything he wanted with a sad tone of voice and a pouty face they’d never eat anything for dinner again except cake. “No classes Friday, right?” said Brian. “What if you come over then?”

“ _Please_ ,” added Mikey, in that same sad tone of voice.

There was no way Brendon was going to say no. Brian thought maybe Mikey’s powers of cuteness should be licensed by the government to end wars or something.

“You can give the boys guitar lessons,” Brian added, because that was Brendon’s other soft spot.

“Fine!” Brendon said. “Okay. Fridays. But only because I love you.” He held his arms open and Mikey obligingly went over and hugged him. Brian felt a twinge of jealousy again. It wasn’t Brendon’s fault he’d become Mikey’s hero.

There was a scream and a crash from the front yard. A couple of months earlier Brian would have panicked, but he was getting used to the idea that having kids around the house meant a certain amount of screaming happened. That amount doubled if Frank was over. The screaming turned in to an entirely different kind of screaming – cheering, maybe? – and Brian leaned over to look out the window.

Claire was getting out of her car. Gerard and Frank were both trying to tell her something at the top of their lungs, and from the look on her face they were both talking over each other and she had no idea what they were saying. Bob was standing stoically behind them, arms crossed. After a second Frank sort of threw himself at Bob and dragged him over to shake Claire’s hand, which seemed to confuse both Bob and Claire, especially because Frank didn’t relinquish his hold on Bob’s neck. Sometimes it made Brian a little sad that Bob was clearly more patient than he was.

Gerard and Frank dogged Claire all the way up to the door. She looked overwhelmed when she walked in, which made sense when Brian heard the conversation. “—And then, in the _third_ issue it turns out that he wasn’t evil _at all_ because it was his _evil twin_ —” Gerard said breathlessly, “—which I’m going to draw by making him look all sneaky. Usually the evil twin wears black but we decided that was too obvious.”

“So in the fourth issue they have a giant throw down,” Frank interrupted.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be epic!”

“And you’ve drawn all this?” Claire asked.

“Well.” Gerard looked at Frank, who shrugged and put his hands in his pockets. “No. We’re still planning.”

“Brendon’s _leaving_ ,” Mikey said, in a totally betrayed tone of voice.

The other three boys stopped dead to stare at Brendon. Brendon put his face in his hands. “I have to go to _school_ ,” he said, in a tone of voice that suggested he was on the brink of giving up.

“We have to go to school too,” Gerard said, a little bit injured. “That doesn’t mean we don’t want to hang out!”

“You’re practically _family_ ,” Frank complained.

  
Brendon was going to start crying in a minute. Brian wasn’t far behind him. He wished it had been Gerard who’d said it, though.

“Who will we play Everquest with?” Frank demanded.

“And Frank still totally sucks at guitar,” Bob added thoughtfully, which made Frank punch him. It wasn’t a real punch, though, and Bob smothered a laugh in his sleeve.

Brendon looked beseechingly at Brian, who decided to intervene. He wasn’t as cool or fun as Brendon, but there were some advantages to being the adult. “He’s coming by on Fridays,” he said, “after school. But only if you guys stop trying to guilt him. If you make him feel bad about it he won’t want to come back.”

“No!” Frank protested as Gerard said quickly “We didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

“I did,” grumped Mikey.

If Mikey’s cuteness was irresistible then both Way brothers and Frank together were some kind of nuclear holocaust of adorableness. Plus Bob, while not exactly talking, had kind of a bummed expression. Brian would have given them the fucking world if they’d asked for it. Brendon never stood a chance.

“Of course I’ll come by on Fridays,” he said. And then “Ack, you guys!” because Frank and Gerard had thrown themselves at Brendon with the kind of physical abandon that involved elbows and knees and black eyes.

Claire was trying really hard not to grin. “So that worked out, huh?” she said.

“Thank god,” Brian said fervently. He’d spent a lot of time over the summer considering what he would have done if Brendon had been less awesome, or less trustworthy, or less patient, or less dorky. Every scenario in his head ended in death and destruction. Brendon had a family on this coast for as long as he wanted one. Brian was a little smug about the whole thing.

“Why don’t we go upstairs and talk?” Claire suggested, because it didn’t look like Frank was going to climb off Brendon any time soon, and Gerard had started explaining his comic book again.

They sat in Brian’s bedroom, which felt sort of awkward because Claire was, after all, pretty hot, and most of the time when Brian brought women home to his bedroom they did not then discuss his adopted kids. Plus, Brian hadn’t had a hot chick in his bedroom in literally months, and his lizard-brain was totally misinterpreting her presence there.

“School starts next week,” Claire said. “Are you nervous?” _You should be_ , said her tone of voice.

Brian shrugged. “A little bit,” he admitted. “I think Gerard’s probably going to have a pretty rough time making friends. Thank god he’ll have Frank and Mikey. That kid attracts trouble.”

“Gerard has a history of getting in to fights at school,” Claire said.

Brian shifted uncomfortably. _He_ had a history of fights in school, too. “Yeah, Mikey told me. He got punched at his last school or something.” Brian asked. “I’m kind of hoping that super-artsy private school will mean more weird kids like him and less kids like—” _Like the asshole on the playground_ , Brian wanted to say, but it was definitely better if Claire never found out he’d flipped his shit and almost punched someone. “—Less like the kid who punched him,” he finished awkwardly.

Claire looked skeptical. “It’s a big test for this placement, now that Gerard’s gotten over the snit fit he was throwing. If you’re still serious about keeping them permanently -- ”

“I am.”

“—then they need to be thriving and succeeding. It’s good that they have friends and a support system, but they need to pass their classes and do well in school, too. No problems at school. No emergency phone calls. No more fights. It’s vital in order for me to recommend making this permanent.”

He expected to feel nervous when she brought it up, but really he just felt frustrated; they couldn’t even start the paperwork and shit for another month. Brian was triply glad she didn’t know about the playground. “Right,” he said.

There was a thump in the hallway. Claire frowned and looked at him, and then down the hall. “Hi, Gerard,” she said. “You heard that?”

“Uh,” said Gerard, appearing nervously in the doorway. “I wasn’t eavesdropping. Well, I was, but not on purpose. I came up to get something from our room to show Brendon and you were talking and I heard it. But accidentally.”

The fact that he wasn’t totally freaking out heartened Brian quite a bit. The kid Brian had let stay that first night would have been teary and panicked. Gerard was apologetic, but not overly so. “So don’t get in any fights,” Brian said. “And everything will be okay.”

“Sure,” said Gerard, and then as soon as Claire turned away, he rolled his eyes. Brian wasn’t sure if it was a “the fights aren’t my fault” eye roll or a “you’re a total hypocrite” eye roll. Gerard had a valid point either way.

“There won’t be any problems,” Brian said firmly, looking at Claire.

“Right,” she agreed. She didn’t sound totally convinced. That seemed fair; neither was Brian.

Brian figured as long as they were talking about school, there was one other thing to bring up. “Gerard,” he said, “you know, if you want to cut your hair before school starts— ”

Gerard rolled his eyes so hard Brian thought he might hurt himself. “Briiiiiiiian,” he groaned, “I keep telling you. I don’t _care_.”

 _Right, but it’s one more reason you’re going to get your ass kicked next week_ , Brian thought. He sighed. They could only go back and forth about it so many times before Brian lost the will to fight. “Fine,” he said. “I’m just saying—“

“God,” Gerard huffed. “I _know_ , okay?”

Brian held his hands up in surrender. “If you change your mind—”

“I won’t.” Gerard crossed his arms, which was usually a pretty good indication that the argument was over. Gerard was no longer the world’s bitchiest fourteen-year-old, but he hadn’t forgotten the skill set. “Oh, uh, Brian?” Gerard said. “Can we have a going-away party for Brendon?”

“You know he’s not actually going anywhere, right?” Brian asked. “He’s just going to be back in school.”

Gerard rolled his eyes again. “I _know_ ,” he said. “But he won’t be _here_ , will he? Plus, he’s getting Guitar Hero III. I think Mikey might die if he doesn’t get to play it.”

Brian had taken to editing all sentences about Mikey’s alleged wants to mean “Gerard wants this and can’t admit it.” He sighed. “We’ll see if Brendon says okay,” he said, knowing it was a delayed yes. Brendon was months past telling Mikey and Gerard they couldn’t have anything they wanted.

\ \ \ \

Frank didn’t have much of an opinion of school. School was where he went during the day because his mom went to work and he was apparently too young to get a job. Frank would have happily given up going to school to earn some money so his mom could worry less all the time, but when he’d offered she’d started crying, and Frank tried to avoid that. He had big plans for when he turned sixteen, though.

Frank had even less of an opinion of private school. He figured it would be just like normal school except for two things: he had to wear a tie, which sucked, and Gerard and Mikey and Bob would be there, which didn’t suck.

The first morning was weird; Frank got up early and walked over to Gerard and Mikey’s house to get a ride. Mikey was sitting in the kitchen calmly eating cereal while Brian and Gerard freaked out at each other. Brian did a pretty good job of acting like a grownup most of the time, Frank had noticed, except when Gerard got really upset, and then he kind of fell apart.

“You’re going to be late!” Brian said, and then “Hi, Frank.”

“Hi,” said Frank.

“I’m not going if I can’t find that pen! It’s special! It writes upside down and the ink doesn’t skip and I’m not going if I don’t have it!” Gerard yelled back at him.

Frank rolled his eyes. Gerard had a thing about using certain pens for certain projects, and it was kind of funny to pick on him about it, but it was also mildly stupid. Mikey was also rolling his eyes.

“You’re not going to be late for your first day, Jesus,” Brian muttered. “Just use a regular fucking pen.”

“A regular pen isn’t the same!”

“I don’t care!”

“Brian!”

It was some kind of nerd stand-off. Both of them had their arms crossed and their chins up, and Mikey was staring really hard at his cereal pretending not to hear them. Brian could never seem to remember that he was a grown up and he wasn’t supposed to let Gerard wind him up. Frank sighed and went upstairs.

Gerard was forever losing stuff. His and Mikey’s room always looked like a tornado had hit it. Frank didn’t understand how Gerard slept with three sketchbooks and a box of charcoals in his bed, not to mention a stack of comic books by his pillow. Not that Frank was neat, exactly, but Gerard could create a mess just by breathing.

Frank figured Gerard had last been drawing sitting on his bed, so he started by shaking out all the sheets and then, when that didn’t work, crawling under the bed where pens might have rolled. There it was, lying underneath a pile of socks and tissues and crumpled pieces of paper. It was shiny and silver and had cost a shitload of money because the pen box said something about astronauts and writing underwater. If Gerard lost it again, Frank was going to stab him with it – when he found it for him, of course.

“Here,” said Frank, walking back in to the kitchen.

Gerard, weirdly, didn’t look happy that he’d found it. “Oh,” he said, and took the pen, but he was frowning and fidgeting a lot more than usual.

“What?” Frank asked.

“Nothing,” Gerard muttered.

“Guys, come on. Mikey, you done? Can we go?” Brian demanded.

“Mikey’s not, right?” Gerard said, but Mikey was putting his bowl in the sink.

Frank watched Gerard fidget some more, playing with the buttons on his sleeves and adjusting his tie over and over. Frank was clearly missing something.

“Okay,” said Mikey, grabbing his bag. He kind of sighed. “This is going to suck,” he muttered.

Brian said immediately “No, it won’t,” but he wouldn’t look at them while he said it, which Frank thought was suspicious. Gerard wasn’t looking at anyone, either. Frank frowned. He wasn’t going to be in classes with Gerard, and he wasn’t sure what he’d do if things didn’t go well. If anyone hassled Gerard, Frank’s plan was still to beat the living shit out of them, which would be trickier if he didn’t see Gerard all day. He’d have to find Bob before classes started and let Bob know that Gerard required looking after.

Brian had a car, but he didn’t use it much, so it was weird to pile in and get driven to school. All three of them sat in the back and Brian made awkward small talk about how awesome the year was going to be and how much they’d like school. Frank assumed he was trying to persuade them, which was strange; Gerard had been plenty excited about going to school because there were honest-to-god art classes in stuff like drawing and painting. He didn’t look too excited now, though. He looked a little sick.

Montrell was a huge bunch of old brick buildings with plants growing all over them and a big iron gate out front. The parking lot was seriously as big as Frank’s middle school had been. There were a bunch of fields behind it, too, for sports and stuff. Everyone was wearing navy and red and white, which gave it a pretty cool Halloween vibe Frank kind of liked. There were tons of kids, and almost of them were a lot older and bigger than Frank. That was okay. Frank didn’t get nervous about that kind of shit anymore.

Brian pulled up to the sidewalk. “Okay,” he said. “You’re supposed to go to the office and get your programs.”

There was a long silence. Frank wasn’t getting out of the car until Gerard and Mikey did, and Gerard and Mikey looked pretty glued to the seat.

Brian sighed. “There’s Bob, guys. And… Bob’s friend? With the red hair?”

No one moved. Frank was getting kind of antsy, though.

“You have to get out of the car to go in to the building,” Brian pointed out.

Frank decided it still counted if he shoved Gerard and Mikey out of the car. He crawled over them and opened Mikey’s door and then pushed on Gerard’s shoulder until he and Mikey either had to move on their own or fall out on their asses. They climbed out reluctantly, with miserable expressions.

“I’ll pick you guys up at three thirty,” Brian said.

“Okay,” said Mikey.

Gerard was staring really, really hard at the sidewalk. That was unfortunate, because it meant he wasn’t looking at Bob’s friend, who had the most awesome hair Frank had ever seen. It was red and curly and seriously as big as his entire head over again. “Look!” Frank whispered, nudging Gerard. It wasn’t nice to point and all, but c’mon. That dude had _hair_.

“Bye, guys,” said Brian.

Gerard looked up at him, and Frank was absolutely sure that the next words out of his mouth would be “Please don’t make me.” So Frank said “Bye, Brian!” first and slammed the car door shut. He grabbed Gerard by the arm and dragged him over to Bob.

“Hey,” said Bob. “This is Ray. He plays guitar like a motherfucker.”

“Hi!” said Ray cheerfully. Ray looked really happy to be there, which made one of them, at least. Gerard was on the brink of tears and Mikey and Bob were sort of hard to read. “I’m gonna show you guys where to go and get your programs. That’s the Upper School and that’s the Lower School. That’s the croquet field. I don’t know what croquet is, so don’t ask.” He laughed at his own stupid joke, high-pitched and sort of awkward, which made Frank like him immediately.

“Holy shit,” Ray said, as they walked over to the office. “Is that a fucking dragon on your bag?”

Gerard looked mildly embarrassed and clutched his bag a little tighter. “Yeah,” he said.

“That’s awesome!” Ray held his bag out. “Mine has a wolf on it. I looked for a bag for-fucking-ever. Where did you find that?”

“I drew it,” Gerard said uncertainly, and looked at Frank.

Ray bounced up and down a little. The effect on his hair was amazing. “You drew that?” he repeated. “That is so cool! Dude, will you draw on mine? Bob said you were cool, but he didn’t say you were _that_ cool!”

Frank and Gerard just looked at Bob. “What?” Bob demanded. Frank started giggling again.

“I guess I can,” Gerard said to Ray. “Um. If you want.”

“Can you draw a wolf fighting a dragon?”

Gerard got a really thoughtful look on his face and almost walked in to a lamp post. Frank snagged his sleeve and dragged him back on to the sidewalk. “I could… If they both… Hmmm. Let me sketch that out,” he said. Frank was glad he didn’t look sick anymore, but he was a little worried that a distracted Gerard would wander straight in to a pit of bullies and mean kids and never notice.

“Oh, I have gummy worms. Do you guys want some?” Ray asked.

Ray not only had gummy worms, he stuck one in his nose. Ray thought it was hysterically, and started laughing again, which made Frank giggle. Ray dared Bob to eat the nose worm, and Bob looked thoughtful and then shrugged and ate it. Frank laughed so hard he accidentally-on-purpose fell on Mikey.

Ray took them to the office. Everything was dark and polished and shiny and there was no grafitti on the walls or gang symbols written in white out on the lockers. There were lots of kids standing around outside the door, but Ray apparently knew everyone in the whole world so he just grinned and said “I got this,” and shoved his way through the crowd.

He reappeared holding papers a couple of minutes later. “Here,” he said. “Mikey’s with Ms. Brave, which is totally the best sixth grade homeroom ever. I was with her and she never got mad at me, even when I made John squirt milk out of his nose. Frank is with Mr. Nichols, which is fine; he’s old as hell and he doesn’t care if you talk or sleep or do whatever the fuck. Bob is in my class with Ms. Andrews, who’s new, which probably means we can do whatever the fuck we want. And Gerard is in the other ninth grade homeroom, Mr. McMurphy’s.” He paused. Ray apparently didn’t need to breathe too much while he was talking. “He’s kind of weird, but he’s okay. You just want to be careful, because I think Bert McCracken is in that homeroom this year.”

The hair on Frank’s neck stood on end. “Why does he have to be careful?” Frank demanded. Some bigger kid tried to shove him out of the way and Frank glared.

“Oh, Bert’s just kind of… Um. Big. And a little uh. Weird?” Ray shrugged. “His parents have a lot of money or something so he never gets in trouble even when he’s a total asshole around the school. He’s just… You know. He’s Bert.”

Frank knew. Every school had a kid like that, and in Frank’s experience they were bad news. Frank turned to Gerard, who was looking less certain about the whole high school experience again. “If he fucks with you, you tell me, and I’ll kill him,” Frank said firmly.

“Frank, you can’t kill everyone who bugs me,” Gerard said.

“Yes, I can.”

They stared at each other for a minute, until Gerard gave up and rolled his eyes. It was kind of cute, in Frank’s opinion, the way Gerard thought he could stop Frank from killing.

He didn’t get the opportunity to murder anyone on Gerard’s behalf, though, because Ray walked him over to the Lower School where he and Mikey had classes, and then Ray, Bob, and Gerard all went off to the Upper School building. Frank felt antsy again. It was so stupid that just because he was younger than everyone else he couldn’t hang out with them all day. He’d probably gotten enough tutoring from Brendon over the summer to be all caught up anyway.

Frank was fidgety. He looked around his homeroom – twenty-five kids in identical blazers and ties, all of whom of course were taller than he was – and sighed. School was going to be all school-y again this year. Damn it.

Frank twitched until lunch. He got an assigned desk and he wrote a little bit about what he’d done over the summer and he took a math test. Frank grudgingly conceded that some of the things Brendon had gone on and on and on about were actually turning out to be useful, even if they made him want to pass out from boredom. But he felt like he was holding his breath all day, waiting to meet up with Gerard and Mikey and Bob and Ray to find out how their days were going.

One thing was different at private school; at lunch Frank got to go outside and sit wherever on the campus. The other eighth graders mostly stuck together – they knew each other from last year or they were afraid of the bigger kids – but Frank immediately started looking for his friends.

Bob and Ray were sitting by a tree, and Mikey wandered over looking sort of lost and bored. But no one knew where Gerard was, which set off all kinds of alarm bells in Frank’s head. It was entirely possible, in Frank’s opinion, that Gerard had made a break for it and gone back home, in which case Frank had zero interest in being there anymore.

He circled the field like a shark a couple of times, and when Gerard still didn’t turn up he sent Bob in one direction and Ray and Mikey in the other. They had a limited amount of time before Frank started losing his shit at everyone.

He found Gerard by accident, walking around the building to the parking lot side where no students were supposed to be. Gerard was standing on the sidewalk with his hands shoved in his pockets. That was fine.

What was less fine were the four kids standing around him, laughing, holding his bag up over their heads. Frank cracked his knuckles.

There was one kid who was bigger than the others, and his hair was sort of greasy and long and black. His expression was really nasty. Frank looked at him and knew immediately that this was the Bert guy Ray had been talking about. Guys who looked like that ate guys who looked like Ray for lunch.

This guy clearly did not yet understand that there were going to be some changes in the food chain this year. Frank made a fist.

Gerard wasn’t exactly backing down, but he wasn’t going to win a four-on-one fight, either. “Seriously, this is so retarded,” he complained. “Just give it back.”

“Make me,” said Bert.

“Did you hear that?” said the kid next to Bert. “He wants his widdle dwagon bag back you guys. You’re so _mean_.”

Frank was beyond pissed. “Yo, knock it off,” he said. The effect was mildly ruined by the fact that Frank was half Bert’s size, but Frank had lots of experience at this kind of thing.

“Frank, it’s okay,” Gerard said quickly.

Bert laughed. “You need some fucking toddler to get your bag back, huh, faggot? Does he know about all the gay-ass shit you draw? Does he know about the fucking unicorns and fairies in your notebook?”

“They aren’t fairies,” Gerard said. “They’re pixies.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Bert and his friends started laughing, which made Frank want to maim them. Gerard had been explaining the difference between fairies and pixies to Bob for like, a week. “Give it back,” Frank ordered, “or I’m going to fuck you up.”

Gerard actually looked a little bit panicked. “Frank, don’t,” he said. “Seriously, we can’t.”

“I can.”

“No, you _can’t_.” Frank had no idea why Gerard was getting so upset when no one had even gotten punched yet.

“Fucking new kids don’t know the school rules yet,” said the kid next to Bert. He grabbed Gerard’s blazer and pulled, dragging Gerard up to his tiptoes. He made a little squeaking noise. One of the other kids grabbed Frank by the arm before he could start biting anyone’s balls off. “Nobody fucks with Bert. His dad is the superintendent. Don’t you know what that means?”

Frank had no idea, and he also didn’t give a fuck. Gerard flailed for a second and twisted himself free. He took a step backward, but there were kids behind him now, too. “I just want my bag back,” Gerard said. “I wasn’t bothering you.”

“Your face bothers me,” Bert said, grinning. “What are you, a fucking girl?”

“No,” Gerard mumbled. When Frank got loose he was going to kill everyone. Everyone _on earth_.

“Yeah, well you look like a girl,” Bert said, leaning right in Gerard’s face. Gerard flinched a little bit. Bert clearly wanted him to yell or scream or cry, but he didn’t, he just crossed his arms.

“If he wants his fucking bag so badly let him go get it,” said one of Bert’s friends, grabbing the bag and throwing as hard as he could. It fell in the parking lot, and Gerard’s papers fluttered out, landing all over the pavement. Frank growled. Gerard looked at him and shook his head.

“Fucking faggots,” said the kid, and spat at them.

Bert pointed to Gerard. “I’ll see you around,” he threatened, and led his posse off to lunch.

If Gerard hadn’t looked so upset, Frank would have fucked someone up when they let go of him. Instead he let them laugh and turn and walk away.

“What the fuck?” Frank demanded, as soon as Bert was out of earshot. “We could totally have taken them!” At least, they could have if Bob and Ray and Mikey had been there.

Okay, maybe not _Mikey_. But Bob was tough, and Ray was at least taller than Gerard, even if he didn’t seem like much help in a fight.

“I can’t, okay?” Gerard muttered, jogging off to get his papers. Frank followed. They’d gotten all muddy and Gerard picked them up and brushed them off sort of sadly. “I can’t get in trouble at this school.”

“But you weren’t causing trouble, you were just defending yourself from those assholes!” Frank protested.

“I _can’t!_ ” Gerard repeated. He grabbed his bag and flapped his hands a little helplessly. “If I get in trouble, and they have to call Brian to the school for anything, then Claire… Listen, I just _can’t_ , okay? Bert can do whatever he wants. I don’t care. Mikey really likes Brian.”

Frank didn’t totally get the connection, but Gerard was obviously upset. “You missed most of lunch,” Frank said instead.

Gerard shrugged. “I’m not hungry.”

Frank waited patiently while Gerard picked up the rest of his drawings and shoved them back in his bag. He wanted to say something nice to Gerard about how it would get better, but he’d met a lot of kids like Bert, and he didn’t think it would. He was pretty sure it would get worse.

Gerard sighed. “Promise me you won’t start anything stupid with Bert, Frank.” He put his bag on one shoulder and stood all slumpily.

Frank was not going to promise that. His fists itched to break Bert’s nose. “Why?” he asked.

“Because,” said Gerard, scuffing his sneaker on the pavement. “If you get in a fight with Bert I’m gonna have to back you up, and he’s gonna kick both of our asses, and we’re gonna get in trouble. But I couldn’t _not_ do something if he hit you. So just… Stay away from him, okay?”

“Yeah,” said Frank, and he couldn’t help smiling, because when Gerard talked like that his heart tried to thump right out of his throat. “Okay.”


	10. Chapter 10

School got better, but it still pissed Frank off.

Gerard loved his art class. He talked about it all the time. Sometimes, when they were on their way home from school, Gerard would talk the entire way from Montrell to Brian’s house without pausing to take a breath. He loved his art teacher, Mr. Adames, more than he loved comic books, and it made Frank a little uncomfortable to listen to Gerard go on and on and on and on.

“He liked what I drew!” Gerard said for the seventh time, sitting on the front steps of Brian’s house. “He said it had a point of view. He said it showed _growth_.”

Frank felt grumpy. “Yeah,” he said. “You said that already.” It was starting to get cool in the afternoons, so Frank zipped up his hoodie.

“Right, but he gave me this book about designing graphic novels, and he didn’t laugh at what I was drawing! He said he was excited to see what I’d do next! He said I was _rare_.” Gerard was giggling a little bit, and it was so fucking cute that Frank sighed.

“That’s awesome,” Frank said. “I still don’t get why you joined _chorus_ , though. That is totally gay.”

Gerard stopped laughing. “Well. They asked me,” he said.

“But why did you say yes?” Frank demanded.

Gerard fidgeted. “I don’t know,” he said. “I guess… People don’t ask me to do stuff that much?”

“I do,” Frank complained. “And if you’re in chorus you’re another half hour late from school.”

“You could join chorus too,” Gerard offered.

Frank could do a lot of things, but joining chorus wasn’t one of them. Mostly he was mad because he hadn’t known Gerard could sing, and now a whole lot of stupid Upper Schoolers knew and Frank felt left out. If he was Gerard’s best friend he had to know this stuff _first_. “No,” said Frank. “And I’m not coming to your stupid concerts.”

“Frank!”

Gerard looked so upset that Frank gave in immediately. “Okay, I’ll come,” he said. “But I’m sitting with Mikey and we’re both going to talk shit about you the whole time.”

Gerard smiled. “You’re won’t,” he said. “You’re going to be all ‘That’s my friend Gerard up there singing; isn’t he _awesome_?’”

 _And if anyone says no, I’ll punch them_ , Frank added to himself. Gerard didn’t need to know that. “Maybe,” Frank said.

“And I’ll go hear you and Ray and Bob and Mikey in the school band,” Gerard went on loyally.

“Of course you will,” Frank scoffed. “Like you’d miss anything Mikey did.”

“I want to hear _all_ of you,” Gerard said firmly.

“Yeah, ‘cause Mikey sucks.”

“You suck.”

“ _You_ suck.” Frank paused. “You should have joined band with us.”

“Well, no,” said Gerard reasonably, “because I actually do suck.”

He did, kind of, although Ray hadn’t given up hope. Ray was willing to sit down with Gerard and show him the same chord seven thousand times in a row on his guitar, and every single time Gerard got it _so slowly_ that all those glaciers Brendon liked to talk about were probably all melted away. Ray had patience like no one Frank had ever met.

“You don’t suck,” Frank said, feeling grumpy again. “You could play the tambourine.”

Gerard started laughing again and shoved him. “That’s _stupid_ ,” he said, and it occurred to Frank that the whole conversation was sort of stupid so he started giggling, too. He shoved Gerard back, and then Gerard shoved _him_ back and they ended up both falling off the stairs. It was hilarious. Mikey opened the front door and rolled his eyes at them.

“I don’t believe you’re older than me,” said Mikey flatly. “Brian says dinner is ready.”

Frank raised his eyebrows. “Brian is cooking?” he asked.

Mikey shook his head. “Jeanne cooked. Brian is reheating.”

“Oh, okay,” said Frank, who’d been thinking of a good excuse to go home. Brian was awesome in like, nine hundred ways, but not so much at cooking.

Mikey was still looking at them both with that expression like he was too cool for them, so Frank picked up a pile of leaves and stuffed them down the back of Mikey’s shirt. Mikey squirmed and bitched until Gerard sighed and got up to help him get all the leaves out. Gerard was a total wuss who was going to let Mikey grow up to be a total wuss too, in Frank’s opinion.

They were both so lucky to have him, honestly.

Inside, Brian handed them plates. “Not on the couch!” he ordered. He was trying to be more parental lately, which was funny. It wasn’t like he had a dining room table, though, so they all sat at the kitchen counter.

“How was school today?” Brian asked.

Gerard looked at Frank, who shrugged. They were clearly not going to say _Shitty as always because these kids keep giving Gerard a lot of crap at lunch_. Gerard had a strict policy of never complaining about school to Brian, because Brian had worked so hard to find one he’d like. Plus, Gerard was absolutely convinced that if he complained to Brian, Brian would show up at school the next day with a shotgun or something, and it would just cause more problems. Frank was trying to respect that. “Fine,” said Gerard instead.

“Details?” Brian said hopefully.

“Tell him about art class,” Frank said with a sigh, and then he and Mikey exchanged long-suffering eye-rolls as Gerard’s whole face lit up and he started talking. About Mr. Adames. _Again_.

Frank was glad Gerard was excited about something; the first three weeks of school had been alternately awesome and horrible, and the more he focused on the awesome parts the less likely Frank was to see anyone crying. Frank hated crying. He hated it when his mom cried and he hated it when Gerard cried. To be fair, he’d only seen Gerard cry once, and that was when Brian got hit by a car, but still. Crying was Not Good and Frank would do just about anything to avoid seeing it.

He was a little worried that if things kept escalating with Bert, Gerard would end up bloody and crying anyway. Frank had asked around the Lower School about Bert, and it turned out his reputation was pretty scary; apparently some kid had ratted him out to the teacher for picking on her, and that kid had been kicked out of school the next week. Another rumor Frank heard was that Bert picked someone every year to torture until they transferred, and he made a bet with his friends to see how fast he could make it happen. There were other stories, too, about Bert selling drugs and Bert having sex in the principal’s office and Bert stealing a car, but Frank felt those were irrelevant. He totally believed that Bert picked someone to be his special victim, though, because so far Gerard hadn’t gotten through a single day without some kind of problem.

Frank had taken to patrolling the school during lunch, because sometimes Gerard got distracted by last-period art and never came out to eat at all, and other times Bert gave him such a hard time that Gerard would go and find somewhere to be by himself instead of eating lunch. Gerard wasn’t the only kid Bert picked on, but he was definitely Bert’s favorite. Ray and Bob tried to sneak out of class early to find Gerard and make Bert back off, but it only worked like two days a week. The rest of the time Gerard was on his own, and the same kid who’d been willing to fight for Frank on the playground was totally unwilling to take a swing at the guy who was making high school hell. Frank got why, but it really pissed him off.

He went home and thought about it a little bit, but he couldn’t come up with a way to fix the situation. Frank found that most of the time if he waited things got better. He was only willing to be patient up until a point, though; eventually he’d have to sneak in to Bert’s house and kill him in his sleep. He hoped Gerard could come up with a plausible story for the police.

The next day at school Frank’s normal circuit at lunch didn’t reveal Gerard in any of his usual places, so Frank went through the art room to the inner art room. Sometimes Gerard got all distracted by paint and charcoal and pencils and vanished in to the art-supplies closets. The upstairs rooms were pretty well deserted, though. Frank poked his head around the corner and didn’t see anyone.

He was about to turn and go back outside when he heard a voice way inside the art studio. It sounded like Gerard, or Gerard-like enough that Frank figured he had to check it out.

Frank wasn’t too surprised to see Bert and Gerard alone in the room. It was a little weird that Bert didn’t have his usual group of idiots with him, but it wasn’t weird at all that he’d be giving Gerard a hard time. And it wasn’t surprising to hear Bert say “You’re such a fucking faggot,” either, because he called Gerard that all the time.

“Leave me alone,” Gerard said, like he always did.

It was really, really, _really_ fucking surprising, though, when Bert shoved Gerard up against the wall and kissed him.

And kissed him.

 _And kissed him_.

Frank’s mouth dropped open.

Frank only had one real opinion on kissing: He didn’t get it. What if someone else’s tongue got all up in your mouth? Wouldn’t it be slimy and squirmy and weird? He was pretty against the idea of anyone he knew kissing anyone else. He was really fucking against _Bert kissing Gerard._

On the other hand.

Frank was, he realized suddenly, _desperately_ curious about Gerard and kissing. Frank was flooded with questions; did Gerard like kissing? Did Gerard like kissing _boys_? If Gerard liked kissing boys, why wasn’t he kissing Frank?

It hadn’t been a remote possibility ten seconds earlier, but Frank was absolutely fucking certain that if Gerard was going to kiss boys, he had _better_ only fucking be kissing _Frank_.

Gerard looked as surprised as Frank; for a second he let Bert push him against the wall and then he squirmed and shoved back and turned his face away like he’d tasted something awful.

Which he had. _Bert_.

“Oh my god, get off,” Gerard said, shoving ineffectually at Bert.

“What the fuck?” said Bert. He was out of breath. Frank was _horrified_. “You like this!”

“No!” said Gerard. His voice was shaking a little bit. He shoved Bert again, this time a lot harder, like he’d just really figured out what was happening. Bert staggered back a step. Gerard pressed himself against the wall and said “Holy shit, is that why you keep following me around? You fucking _hypocrite_!”

Bert was going to say something else, but they never found out what, because Frank launched himself at Bert and wrapped his arms around Bert’s neck. “Motherfucker,” Frank snarled, and tried to twist Bert’s neck so it would snap, like on TV.

“Frank, stop!” Gerard yelled.

Bert twisted around and slammed Frank in to the wall. Frank was pretty tough and awfully determined, but his vision sort of whited out and his hands let go all on their own. Bert glared at him. “I’m going to kill you,” he snarled, and pulled back his fist.

Frank wasn’t afraid of pain, but he was really glad that Gerard grabbed Bert’s arm and yanked him away. “Fuck you,” Gerard said. Bert turned and shoved Gerard, and Gerard shoved back, and then Bert tackled Gerard and they both went crashing in to a pile of paints and canvases and paper.

It was really too bad that Mr. Adames chose that minute to walk in the room.

\ \ \ \

Brian got the call at work. He had a stack of paperwork to go through that was easily six inches deep, and about seventeen phone calls to make, and he still had to figure out how he was going to tell Lou that no, he couldn’t go to L.A. this weekend, either. At one point Ryan Ross stuck his head in Brian’s office and said “Gabe wants you.”

Brian didn’t want to talk to Gabe. “Okay,” he said. “Tell him to call me.”

Ryan frowned. He’d been Brian’s assistant for maybe two days before Brian had called in every favor he’d ever had to get someone else to take him. He was smart and he was nice and he was great at talking music, but he was also… Well, weird. Like how he’d wear hats and scarves even when it wasn’t cold outside. It irked Brian every time he saw him. “But Gabe’s on the other side of the hall,” Ryan said, pointing. “He’s right there.”

“But I’m busy,” Brian said, as patiently as he could. “So tell him to call me.”

Ryan shrugged. “Okay,” he said, and turned and hollered “Brian says to call him! I don’t know why.”

Brian tried to remember that Ryan Ross was practically a zygote he was so young, and that young people did stupid and irritating things. His own kids, for example, had tried to heat microwave popcorn on the stove a couple of nights before, and set the kitchen on fire. He’d gotten over that. He could get over this.

The phone rang. Brian picked it up and said “Gabe, Jesus, not right now.”

A startled woman’s voice replied “Mr. Schechter? This is the principal’s secretary at Montrell Preparatory School.”

 _Oh shit_. Brian had been waiting for this phone call since school started. He sat back in his chair and preemptively put his fingers on his temples, massaging. “Okay,” he said. “Hi.”

“There’s been an incident with your son, Gerard.”

 _Obviously_ there was trouble with Gerard. He’d hoped to have a plan for when this shit started happening. He didn’t. “Yeah?” he said. “What happened?”

She sounded a little annoyed that he wasn’t more surprised. “He was in a fight, Mr. Schechter. He’s in the principal’s office and we need you to come in and speak to the principal about the appropriate steps to be taken next.”

 _Please, please don’t suspend him. Jesus Christ, Claire is going to kill us both._ “Okay,” Brian sighed. “Right. I’m at work; I’ll be there in half an hour or so.”

“Thank you,” she said primly, and hung up.

Brian snuck out of the office while Lou was eating lunch. He’d get shit about it later, of course, but his first priority was getting to school as quickly as he could. She hadn’t said anything about the nurse’s office, so he assumed Gerard wasn’t badly injured. He just couldn’t imagine any scenario in which Gerard had started a fight. Or in which Gerard had _won_ a fight.

He sped to school and parked in a “Reserved For Teacher” spot. He spent most of the walk to the building psyching himself up; he could talk Gerard out of trouble. Just as long as the other kid had started it, whoever he was.

Brian was unsurprised to see Gerard and Frank both sitting on the couch in the Principal’s office. He was mildly surprised, however, to see that they were sitting at opposite ends, and that they weren’t looking at each other. Brian frowned. “Hey, guys,” he said.

Gerard jumped, and when he looked up his face was sheer guilt. “I’m sorry,” he said immediately.

“I’m not,” Frank muttered, but he didn’t look at Gerard.

The secretary looked at him and frowned. “Mr. Paris is waiting for you,” she said. Both boys went back to staring at the floor.

Brian squared his shoulders and walked in to the big, dark office. Mr. Paris was a pretty friendly looking guy in a suit with a dark beard, and he stood up and smiled when Brian walked in. Brian felt like that was probably a good sign.

“So you’re Gerard’s father?” asked Mr. Paris.

Brian almost choked on his answer. Yes? Adoptive? Soon-to-be? Sort of? Jesus Christ, everything was harder than it ought to have been. “Yes,” he said finally.

Mr. Paris raised an eyebrow. “Have a seat. There was an incident with Frank and Gerard and another young man. They were having some kind of brawl in the art room. Quite a bit of school property was destroyed. We frown very strongly on fighting of any kind, Mr. Schechter. We normally have a zero-tolerance policy.”

Zero-tolerance sounded bad. Brian suspected if he called Claire and told her Gerard had only made it three weeks in to the school year before he got kicked out, she’d lose her shit.

He didn’t want to just jump in and say “So who’s the asshole picking on my kid?” because it sounded sort of presumptuous. “Do you know what they were fighting about?” he asked instead.

Mr. Paris shook his head. “No one’s said anything, actually.”

Brian frowned. “Gerard’s a pretty honest kid,” he said, “particularly when he’s done something wrong. He hasn’t said _anything_?”

“Not a word, except that he’s sorry.”

“That’s… Weird.” Brian fidgeted a little. “I figured… Listen, Gerard’s had trouble in school before, but he’s never _caused_ it. He’s not a bad kid. And he loves this school.” He loved the art classes, at least. And the chorus. And his friends.

“Be that as it may, if no one’s willing to say how the fight started, I have to punish everyone,” Mr. Paris said. “I’m trying to be understanding, so he’ll have detention for a week. That means he’ll be missing his after-school activities. Please understand that if it happens again we’ll have to take much sterner measures.”

“It won’t happen again,” Brian assured him. Detention was fine; they could probably keep that from Claire if they had to. “I’m going to talk to him and find out what happened. I just can’t believe Gerard would start a fight with anyone.”

“Particularly not with the young man in question,” said Mr. Paris. “I’d be surprised if it wasn’t his fault, but… Things with him are complicated. The other students are universally reluctant to name names, especially his. I tried talking to Gerard about that, but he wasn’t responsive.”

Gerard wasn’t exactly used to the adults around him being trustworthy. “Okay,” Brian said, “Gerard’s not a fighter; I’ll talk to him. Thank you for your patience.” He shook hands with the principal.

It could have been a shitload worse, obviously. Brian walked back out to the waiting room, where the secretary was busy frowning at Gerard and Frank, who were both staring at nothing.

“Frank, is your mom coming?” Brian asked.

“She can’t get off work,” Frank muttered.

Fuck. Brian was definitely not authorized to take Frank home with him. “Okay, we’ll see you later, then,” Brian said, and paused. “Do either of you want to tell me what happened?”

“No,” said Frank. It was the grumpiest Brian had ever heard him.

“No,” Gerard echoed.

Brian frowned at them. He’d sort of expected black eyes and blood, but they both looked basically fine, if disheveled. It couldn’t have been much of a fight, or it had been broken up really quickly. “You’re going to have to tell me eventually,” Brian argued.

Gerard just shrugged. Frank crossed his arms and looked murderous. What the hell was bugging him? Brian _hated_ teenagers.

“Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in?” he asked. “The one thing at school Claire talked to you about—”

“ _You_ get in fights,” Gerard muttered. Brian revised his opinion; he hated _smart_ teenagers.

“I’m a grown up and I get to decide when it’s necessary to fight,” Brian said. Parenting seemed to involve making up a lot of bullshit on the fly. “Come on, let’s go home,” he ordered.

“What about Mikey?” Gerard asked.

“I’ll come back for Mikey. I want to talk to you.” Gerard didn’t move. “ _Now_ , please.” That sounded appropriately parental. Brian knew the principal’s secretary wasn’t keeping secret notes about which parents were good and which were bad, but he still felt like he had to perform.

Gerard grudgingly stood up and followed Brian out to the car. Brian thought it was fucking weird that Gerard and Frank hadn’t said goodbye to each other. Was it possible that they’d been having a fight and some other kid had just wandered through it and gotten in trouble, too? But what the hell would Gerard and Frank fight about? Had they gotten in to a really spirited discussion of the movie adaptation of Lord of the Rings? Brian could not imagine anything Gerard and Frank disagreed about intensely enough to fight.

They sat in the car for a few minutes without talking, Brian staring out the windshield and Gerard with his hands lost in the sleeves of his blazer somewhere, slumped and picking at the vinyl of the seat. Brian felt like at any moment someone was going to pop up in the back seat and demand to know how he, as a responsible parent, intended to deal with this situation.

He had no idea.

“So,” he said finally, when it was clear Gerard was never going to start the conversation. “What happened?”

Gerard shrugged.

Brian waited, but that was it. “Did you and Frank have a fight?”

“No.”

“Okay, but you and _someone_ had a fight, right?”

Gerard shrugged again.

Brian was going to strangle Gerard with his bare hands. “What were you fighting about?” he asked, clenching his teeth.

Gerard looked guilty. “Nothing.”

“Obviously it was something! You got in a fight, didn’t you?”

Gerard shrugged. Again.

“Would you look at me, please?” Brian demanded. Gerard, very slowly, with obvious reluctance, looked up. “You’re going to have to tell me what happened eventually,” Brian said. “And don’t shrug!”

Gerard sighed, instead. “Nothing happened,” he muttered.

“Dude, _something_ happened, and if you don’t tell me what, Frank will.”

Gerard looked mildly murderous. “He better not,” he said.

Brian’s phone rang before he could start yelling. He looked at the name – Lou – and clicked it off. “I had to leave work, okay?” he snapped. “I’m going to be in fucking trouble for taking time off to come down and get you out of the principal’s office, so you’d better have a better explanation for what just happened than ‘Nothing,’ and shrugging at me.”

“It’s… complicated. I’m sorry,” Gerard said instead, looking back down at the seat. “Don’t worry about it.”

“And that’s just what I’ll tell my boss. ‘Sorry about ditching work on a really busy day, but my kid got in a fight. It’s okay, though; he won’t say why, but he is sorry! _So don’t worry about it._ ’” Brian was feeling pretty fucking bitchy.

“I am – Brian, I’m _sorry_.”

Gerard sounded miserable, but Brian was pissed. “Yeah, well, you’ll have to do better than that. When you pull this kind of shit how do you think it looks to Claire? You and Mikey don’t want to get moved to a new home, do you?” Gerard flinched. Brian hated to scare him, but he needed Gerard to take this really seriously. “You’re grounded.” He could do that, right? Gerard and Mikey were his kids, now, and he could ground them if he wanted. He’d never had a reason before, really. “So until you feel like telling me what happened, no TV and no Frank.”

“But—”

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“I—No.”

“Then you’re grounded.” It probably wasn’t much of a punishment, since Gerard was apparently mad at Frank anyway. “And no Brendon,” he added, because he was still pissed. “And we’re not going to the comic book store. I am really, really disappointed in you.”

“But Brian!” Gerard protested again. “That’s not _fair_! You got in a fight!”

“‘Not fair’ is me having to tell my boss why I left work to deal with this shit,” Brian snapped. “Give me a good reason for it, Gerard, or suck it up and be grounded.”

He thought for a second Gerard was going to burst in to tears, but the kid just crossed his arms and slumped back against the seat. “I can’t,” he said finally.

Some tiny part of Brian’s brain was insisting that if Gerard wasn’t talking, he probably had a good reason. But more of Brian was really annoyed that Gerard wouldn’t talk to him after all this time, so he overruled it ruthlessly. “Let me know when you change your mind,” he said, and drove them home.

When Brian went to get Mikey, later, he was breathless with news about the fight. “Gerard and Frank and Bert had a big thing in the art room!” he told Brian. “And they’re all in trouble and everyone’s talking about it because no one ever tried to hit Bert back before!”

Brian felt that twinge of guilt again. “Gerard is grounded,” he said. “There’s no fighting allowed.”

Mikey blinked a couple of times. “Oh,” he said. “That’s… Different.”

“Do you know what they were fighting about?” Brian asked.

“No. I talked to Pete when Frank wasn’t back from lunch. No one will talk about Bert.”

As usual, Brian had no idea what that meant. “Who’s Pete?” he asked.

“He’s a kid in Frank’s homeroom. Frank didn’t come back during lunch and so I went to talk to Pete, who is kind of weird. But Pete just said there was a fight and everyone was in trouble.”

Brian wondered how anyone tripped Mikey’s “weird” trigger after living with Gerard his entire life. “Okay,” he said. “Well, tell Gerard if he doesn’t want to be grounded he needs to tell me what happened.” Mikey looked doubtful.

Gerard was miserable. He was also stubborn as hell. He came downstairs for dinner and was monosyllabic, but in a sad way this time. Brian sent him back upstairs after a nearly-silent meal and then sat downstairs and sulked on the couch. How did Gerard not get that whatever had happened, he was supposed to trust Brian to deal with it? Brian wasn’t feeling especially patient.

It also threw a bit of a wrench in his plans to have Claire write up the permanent-adoption papers as soon as possible. If Gerard didn’t trust him enough to talk to him about school, what were the odds he even wanted to stay with Brian?

“Is Brendon really not coming over tomorrow?” Mikey asked, sitting on the floor with a comic book.

“Not if Gerard doesn’t tell me what happened.”

Mikey considered that for a long minute. “I’ll go talk to him,” he said finally. “I don’t think it’ll help, though.” And then, mostly to himself, he added “I do kind of want to know anyway.”

Brian waited not-very-patiently for Mikey to come back downstairs. It took a while. “He’s not gonna say,” Mikey said, finally reappearing. “Because he won’t tell me. And he tells me everything.”

“Did he say if he’s mad at Frank?” Brian asked.

Mikey scrunched up his face. “He said things with Frank were kind of weird. But not why.” He shrugged helplessly. “Sorry.”

“Don’t you start apologizing for no reason,” Brian ordered. “Gerard will come around.”

Mikey just shook his head.

The prohibition on Frank turned out not to be such a big deal, because Mrs. Iero called the next day to tell Brian that Frank was sick and wouldn’t be in school for a while, and would Gerard mind getting his homework? Brian didn’t have the heart to tell her Gerard wasn’t allowed to. Frank, she explained, got really sick pretty often, so they shouldn’t expect to see him for at least a week.

If Gerard hadn’t cracked in a week, Brian was going to. He could handle Gerard’s sulkiness – he’d dealt with it before, after all. But on Friday, when Brendon didn’t come over, and Mikey spent the whole afternoon sighing dramatically on the couch and looking meaningfully outside to where Brendon’s car wasn’t, Brian knew he couldn’t really follow through. He let it go through the weekend – no friends over, no movies, no shopping for comics – and a couple of extra days before he decided to give up.

Brian went upstairs to talk to Gerard one-on-one while Mikey was out in the backyard with someone named Ray, who’d started showing up along with Bob. Ray laughed a lot and had a bunch of t-shirts with wolves on them and played guitar all the time. Brian was a little bit heartened that the Way brothers kept finding people nearly as odd as they were, and that all of them were pretty nice.

“Hey,” said Brian, shutting the bedroom door just in case Mikey came back inside.

Gerard was sprawled on the bed, reading a comic book. Re-reading, clearly; everything he had was old since Brian had cut him off from the store.

“So, five days,” Brian said.

Gerard sighed and sat up. “I’m not gonna tell you,” he said. “I don’t care if I’m grounded forever.”

“Okay,” Brian said. “How about this. I’ll call the punishment off, if you tell me it’s never going to happen again.”

Gerard wavered. This was what irritated Brian so badly; Gerard was an honest kid. Why he wouldn’t talk about what had happened at school was beyond Brian’s comprehension. “I don’t want it to happen,” Gerard hedged. “I hope it won’t.”

Brian couldn’t quite stop the words that came bursting out of his mouth. “Gerard, do you even get how important this is?” he demanded. “I have to explain this shit to Claire. This is going to be a disaster of epic fucking proportions. This is the kind of thing that – ”

“I know,” Gerard said. “I _know_ , okay? I’m really sorry. I got you in trouble at work, I got us in trouble with Claire. I promise to try really hard not to let it happen again.”

“Not good enough,” Brian said.

Gerard threw up his hands helplessly. “But it’s the best I can do!” he said.

No matter how sulky he was at the moment, Brian knew Gerard loved the art and music classes at Montrell. And if there was more trouble, he was going to end up somewhere he’d like a lot less. “Do you even want this to work out?” Brian demanded. “Because you’ll have to do better than that.”

Gerard’s mouth opened and closed helplessly a couple of times. “Oh,” he said finally. “Okay. I’ll… I’ll try. I mean, I won’t. It won’t happen again. Really.”

He sounded weird about the whole thing, but Brian was annoyed and he didn’t want to analyze why. “Fine,” he said. “Make sure it doesn’t.”

\ \ \ \

Frank didn’t get to go back to school for a week and a half. Ray called him every day to see if he was coming back yet. Frank appreciated that. He also liked the way Ray would tell him totally random shit that had happened at school, like what Bob ate for lunch and that Mikey had apparently started talking to some kid named Pete from Frank’s homeroom. Frank had no time for his own homeroom; he was busy with Gerard and Bob and Ray and Mikey.

Except now he kind of _wasn’t_ busy with Gerard, because he hadn’t spoken to Gerard since Bert had tackled Gerard in to an easel.

Frank spent a couple of days too sick to worry about it, and then a couple of days feeling achy and feverish and grumpy. By the time he felt better enough to just be flat-out bored stuck at home, he hadn’t spoken to Gerard in a while.

He wasn’t mad at Gerard. Not exactly. It wasn’t like Gerard had done anything. But something pretty fundamental had shifted in Frank’s world, and Gerard was responsible, and Frank didn’t know what to say to him about it. If he was going to say anything at all. Frank might not. It was a weird topic to bring up.

Mikey called to see how Frank was feeling, and to tell him Gerard was grounded and wasn’t allowed to talk to Frank. That made Frank feel a lot better; he could pretend that was the reason they weren’t talking. He still _wanted_ to talk to Gerard. He just felt like that first conversation might be incredibly awkward.

He went back to school the next Monday feeling apprehensive. That was a word Brendon had taught him over the summer. Frank wasn’t used to worrying about what was coming up next, he just fucking dealt with whatever it was. But when he walked up to Brian’s door his heart was pounding really hard in his ears and he was scared that Gerard was going to open the door.

Frank dealt with fear in a very specific way. Whenever possible, he punched it in the face. In this case he didn’t think punching Gerard would make anything better, so he shouldered his bag and set his jaw and glared, really hard.

Brian opened the door. Frank let out a giant sigh of relief. “Oh,” said Brian, “Hi, Frank. Feeling better?”

Frank nodded. He got sick all the time; it wasn’t too surprising anymore.

“We’ll be ready to go in a second. Do you want to come in?” Brian asked.

Frank didn’t. He didn’t want to _at all._ But it would be weird to say so. “Okay,” Frank said instead, and stepped inside.

Mikey was putting his notebooks in his bag, and he smiled when he saw Frank. “Hey,” said Mikey.

“Hey,” Frank replied. He was feeling fidgety.

Gerard came running down the stairs. “Jesus, Brian, we’re going to be late again, and I have chorus before class this morning and I – ” He skidded to a stop on the bottom step, almost falling on his face. “Um. Frank.”

Frank felt pretty unhappy, but Gerard _looked_ unhappy, biting his lip and clutching the banister. “Hi,” said Frank.

Gerard stared at him for a second. Frank had no idea what to say, so he didn’t say anything. _Hey, did you like kissing Bert? Is that a thing you do? Why didn’t you tell me? Would you hit me if I kissed you? Is kissing fun? It looks kind of weird. Is it kind of weird?_ None of those were good options.

“Frank and I are going to go outside and talk for a minute,” Gerard announced loudly.

Brian looked at Mikey, who shrugged. “Okay, I guess,” Brian said. “But if we’re going to be late—”

Gerard wasn’t listening; he grabbed Frank by the arm and dragged him outside, shutting the door and checking the window to make sure no one was watching. “Listen,” he said, in a low, urgent voice. “I didn’t tell Brian what happened, okay? And you can’t either.”

 _Because it was kissing, or because it was kissing a boy, or because it was kissing Bert?_ “Okay,” Frank said.

“Telling on Bert won’t do us any good, it’ll just get us beaten on more, and I can’t get in trouble at school again. I _can’t_. So we can’t tell Brian, because he’ll just cause _more_ trouble. It wasn’t… I can’t believe he did that. He’s totally the weirdest, grossest person on earth. He should be locked up or something.” Gerard made a face.

Okay, that answered a few of Frank’s questions. Not the most pressing ones, however. “I wouldn’t want him to kiss me,” Frank agreed.

“Just pretend you never saw that,” Gerard ordered. “We’ll never talk about it again.”

That was fine with Frank. Except. “Is he…” Frank said, a little unwillingly. “Do you do that a lot? Or is Bert special?”

“Bert is special like a crazy person,” Gerard said. He tugged on the sleeves of his blazer for a minute. “And um. No.”

“No what?” Frank asked, bewildered.

“No, I never… No one’s ever… That was the first time…” Gerard kept stopping, with this helpless look on his face. “Frank! You know what I mean. Jesus.”

It took him a second, and then he did. Frank was glad about that, actually. It made him feel a lot better. “Oh, good,” said Frank.

“Eww,” said Gerard, wrinkling his nose. “If I were going to kiss someone, it would so not be Bert McCracken. Come _on_.”

“Who would it be?” Frank asked, and then bit his tongue. What was _wrong_ with him this morning? He kept asking Gerard questions, even when the answers were terrifying.

Gerard shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know that many people. Someone I actually like, I guess. You, maybe?”

Frank’s brain sort of exploded for a minute, and when everything came back in to focus Brian had opened the door. “Is the secret conference over?” Brian asked. “Can we please go to school?”

“Sure,” said Gerard. His face was kind of pink and he wasn’t looking at Frank. “Let me grab my bag.”

Frank was pretty quiet on the whole ride to school.

\\\\\\\\\\\

Band rehearsals were awesome. Ray was actually really, really good at playing guitar. Bob was pretty fucking good on the drums, too. Frank could always tell which drummer was Bob, even when the whole percussion section was drumming together; Bob was the one who was awesomest.

It was a little sad that Gerard wasn’t in band, but it worked out; Frank snuck out of rehearsals sometimes to hear Gerard singing with the chorus. He had a solo for the winter concert which was apparently a big deal for a ninth grader to get. At least, that was what Gerard said, and then he’d get all giggly and nervous and tell Frank he didn’t care anyway. Frank took this to mean Gerard was going to throw up a lot before the concert, and he, Frank, was going to pretend not to notice.

For a week or so after Frank got back Bert mostly left Gerard alone. Gerard said that made sense; he was afraid that Gerard would tell everyone he was secretly totally gay and his reputation as a bad-ass would be ruined. The problem was the only witness to his gayitude was Gerard – and sort of Frank – and if they told on him then more kids would probably just end up picking on Gerard.

“It’s not that I care if they call me gay,” Gerard said firmly during lunch. It was just the two of them, for once. “Being gay is whatever. It’s not even an insult, it’s just a lifestyle preference.”

Frank rolled his eyes a little bit, because Gerard was totally missing the point. When the kids at school said it, it was an insult.

“And maybe I am gay. Or not. I don’t know; I’m only in ninth grade. There’s a Kinsey scale, you know?” Gerard went on. Frank had no idea. His own concepts in this area were pretty fuzzy. “I don’t care. I just don’t want more shit from everyone.”

“Yeah,” said Frank, because he got that, at least. “Tell me again why you didn’t punch Bert in the face weeks ago?”

Gerard sighed and hunched over his lunch a little more. He looked around cautiously. “I don’t want Mikey to hear this,” he said.

Frank glanced over his shoulder. “No worries,” he said. “Mikey is talking to Pete again. What do they even talk about? Pete is like, so hyper, and Mikey is so… Not.” Frank was baffled.

“Okay, well,” Gerard said, dropping his voice to a whisper. “The thing is, fighting is a giant red-flag for the foster-care people.”

“So?”

“So if I’m getting in fights at school, even if I didn’t start them, it means it’s not a good placement, and they’ll pull me and Mikey out of Brian’s house.”

Oh holy fuck. Frank gasped. “No _way_.”

Gerard nodded solemnly. “I heard him talking to Claire about it forever ago. Plus, you know what he said to me after the fight with Bert?”

Frank shook his head.

“He asked me if I even _wanted_ to stay with him.” Frank could not imagine Brian being such a dick. “He said the only way we’d have to go was if there was like, an epic disaster. And then he said fighting was an epic disaster.”

Frank had never considered killing Brian before. “But he likes you guys so much!” he protested.

Gerard shrugged. “He was mad at me. When people are mad at you sometimes they tell you the truth. I don’t want Mikey to worry, but I can’t get in any more fights, no matter what Bert does. If we tell Brian what happened he’ll call the school and get Bert in trouble, and then Bert’s friends will come after us and--”

“I got it,” Frank said. “No more fighting.”

Fighting had always been Frank’s favorite option in a cold, mean world that thought he was an easy target. But if fighting was going to take Mikey and Gerard away from him, he’d come up with another solution. He considered talking to the principal about what had happened, but that was definitely a last resort; if even half the rumors were true it wouldn’t help, it would just get Gerard in worse trouble. If all else failed, though, Frank would think about it.

Frank spent a couple of days weighing his options, while Bert started up his old shit. He shoved Gerard in a locker one day, and slammed him in to the wall the next. Frank was pissed, but he knew fighting back was off the table. He debated calling the FBI and telling them Bert was a terrorist. No – he’d call the FBI and tell them Bert knew where Osama was. Then they’d put Bert in a secret prison and no one would ever find his body. Frank wanted the kind of revenge where there was a high body count.

Gerard, meanwhile, just tried to deal with all the shit. Bert grabbed his notebook and ripped out all the pages; Gerard redrew them. Bert stole Gerard’s clothes during gym; Gerard walked home in his shorts and almost froze to death. Bert tripped Gerard so he spilled his lunch; Gerard shrugged and ate Frank’s. He was totally resigned to never reacting to Bert at all.

Frank should have known it would all go to hell the one day he missed lunch.

To be fair, Frank had been kind of hyper during class. But come on; his birthday – and Halloween! – were only two weeks away. It wasn’t Frank’s fault he couldn’t concentrate through math class. Who gave a fuck about math two weeks before their birthday?

Mr. Nichols was usually pretty cool, but he decided Frank had been too crazy during math and made him stay in the classroom through lunch. Frank was pissed; lunch was the only time he saw Gerard all day. He spent most of the hour tapping his fingers angrily against the desk while Mr. Nichols napped.

He knew something was up when the other Lower School kids started streaming through the hallway, talking excitedly. Frank was sitting kind of close to the door, so he leaned around and when someone he knew come barreling through he whispered “Yo, what the hell?”

Patrick was this chubby kid in the other 8th grade homeroom who was always sneaking hats in to school against dress code. “Yo, you missed a _fight_ ,” he whispered back, standing just around the corner where Mr. Nichols couldn’t see him.

Oh, man. If Frank couldn’t have fights he at least wanted to watch them. “Shit,” he hissed. “What happened?”

“You know that kid, Bert McCracken? The scary one?”

Frank’s stomach dropped. “Oh no,” he said.

“Yeah. I guess he got tired of picking on that one kid who sits with you at lunch – the weird one. So he went after this sixth grader instead! This skinny kid who was just sitting with Pete, you know, my friend in your class, and Bert walks up and starts shoving him and talking shit and everybody got really quiet because Bert’s a scary motherfucker.”

Bert had gone after Mikey. Frank was going to rip his still-beating heart out of his chest. “Shit!” Frank said. Mr. Nichols snored. “What happened?”

“So he’s shoving that kid and your friend yells ‘Stop it!’ and Bert goes ‘Make me!’ and he goes ‘No!’ and Bert starts laughing and shoves the little kid so hard he fell and I think his glasses broke.”

Frank upgraded Bert’s death to extended torture. He reached for his bag. He could sneak out of lunch detention and Mr. Nichols would never wake up.

“Which is when your friend punched him in the fucking face! Dude, I think he broke his nose! There was blood _everywhere_!”

“Oh _fuck fuck fuck_ ,” Frank said. He shot to his feet and ran out of the room.


	11. Chapter 11

Gerard was sitting in the principal’s office. Again. His tie was loose and crooked, and there was a smudge of blood on his face this time. He was staring at his shoes, shoulders slumped.

Brian couldn’t believe this was happening all over again so _soon_.

“What the hell?” he demanded, a little more sharply than he’d meant to.

Gerard slumped further. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “It was an accident.”

“How do you accidentally break someone’s _nose_?” Brian was through the looking glass. He’d known it was too much to hope that Gerard would never get in trouble at school again, but he hadn’t expected a phone call telling him Gerard had walked up to some kid in the cafeteria and punched him. Brian had spent three seconds being proud as fuck, and then the next hour trying to get out of work, scared that the school had already called Claire. The more he worried about it the higher his temper got. “Jesus Christ, Gerard. I thought you said this wasn’t going to happen again! I thought you said you knew this was _important_.”

“I do!” Gerard bit his lip and twisted a little bit on the leather couch. “I tried really hard, Brian.”

“This had better not be your idea of ‘trying really hard,’” Brian snapped. “Because this is the shittiest trying ever.”

Gerard nodded and looked down. It was great that he got that he’d screwed up, but Brian would have been so much happier if it had never happened in the first place. What if he was suspended this time? What if he was expelled? Claire was supposed to come by with the preliminary permanent-adoption paperwork any day now. Why couldn’t Gerard have waited a month to decide to start freaking out? Didn’t he want to _stay_ at Montrell?

“Gerard,” Brian said, “This is the one thing we’ve talked about since you moved in. ” He closed his eyes for a second, rubbing his hand against his forehead. “Do you know how it looks to Claire? What the hell kind of parent am I if you keep getting in to fights? Plus, you said you cared about staying. This is _fucking it up_.”

Gerard’s mouth dropped open like he’d been slapped. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Brian felt a little bit terrible, but he’d been pretty nice last time, and all that had happened was another fight. Maybe Gerard wasn’t getting the seriousness of this. Maybe Brian hadn’t made it clear. He was a lot more sympathetic with Claire than he had been six months ago, when he’d learned about how she’d tried to manipulate Gerard by threatening to split him and Mikey up. Gerard was a trouble magnet, and it wasn’t entirely his fault, but Brian just couldn’t believe that this was as good as he could be.

“If some kid is giving you trouble, why the hell don’t you tell a teacher? Why the hell don’t you talk to me?” That was the part that killed Brian a little bit. He’d been building up a relationship with Gerard for months. He knew things were getting better between them. But Gerard hadn’t said a goddamn word about whatever was happening at school, and Brian’s suspicion that he was getting bullied was just that – a suspicion. “If you won’t tell me, I can’t help you! What am I supposed to tell Claire? What am I supposed to tell the principal? You’ve made it really hard to defend you. As far as these guys know, you’re just some asshole kid who starts fights all the time. And I know that’s not you, Gerard, so it pisses me off. I am really _disappointed_ in you.”

Gerard was so upset he wasn’t even fidgeting while Brian yelled. “You can’t help,” he said, almost inaudibly.

“You’re right!” Brian snapped. “If you won’t tell me anything, then I _can’t_ help! I can’t do anything to help you here or with Claire! Jesus, I hope you’re happy.”

Gerard just shook his head.

“I’m going to go talk to the principal, and try to keep them from kicking you out of the school. And then we’re going home and you can go upstairs and sulk. I can’t _deal_ with this again.”

Gerard mumbled, “I’m sorry, Brian.”

Brian pretended not to hear. He was about a minute away from freaking out. He was trying not to lose his shit in public, where there were witnesses. A real, legal parent could get away with all kinds of things Brian didn’t dare do. Not until those goddamn papers were signed. If Gerard even _wanted_ him to sign them at this point. Brian was more and more afraid to ask.

All he wanted was for Gerard to be successful, and have friends, and _stop getting in trouble_. How hard was that? Why couldn’t he just trust Brian or the school and tell someone what was going on? Maybe Brian was expecting a little more maturity than Gerard had. One of the problems with getting a kid who was already half-way grown up was Brian hadn’t seen him growing up; he was just frustrated that Gerard wasn’t a grown-up yet. Was he mature or immature for his age? How could this kid, who insisted fighting was a “last resort” and gave Brian shit about it, keep getting in to fights?

Principal Paris sighed and offered Brian the same chair as last time. “Mr. Schechter,” he said. “I’m sorry to see you in here again.”

“I’m sorry to be here,” Brian said, shaking the man’s hand. Under different circumstances he would have liked the guy, probably. As it was, he was edging toward mortal enemy territory. “Gerard--”

“We have a zero-tolerance policy toward fighting at school, and this is the second time you’ve been here about a fight. Gerard’s at his final strike,” Paris said. “He broke someone’s nose, and frankly, Bert’s parents wanted me to call the police. It’s possible that this school isn’t a good fit for him, Mr. Schechter. I don’t want him to be here and be miserable. Maybe it’s time to start thinking about alternatives.”

 _Shit fuck damn._ “Listen, he’s not a bad kid--” Brian started.

“I know. He’s intelligent and imaginative and his teachers speak very highly of him. But this school has never had two fights with the same students this early in the year. Clearly something is wrong here. I don’t suppose he’s told you what happened? Because just like last time, he won’t tell me.” He looked at Brian and waited.

Brian wanted to throttle Gerard, but Gerard was his kid, and he wasn’t giving up without a fight. “There has to be a way for him to stay here,” he said. “Gerard loves it here. This other kid—this Bert guy. He started the fight, didn’t he?”

“They aren’t willing to talk about it,” Paris said flatly. “Again. This time I have a hundred eye-witnesses, but I also have a hundred different stories. And the other students have been universally reluctant to talk about what happened with teachers. I need an explanation from the two of them, and they’re both mute. Unless there’s some divine intervention in the next couple of days, Mr. Schechter, you will need to find somewhere else for Gerard to go.” He paused. “Mikey is still welcome, of course.”

 _Right, but how well is Gerard going to do without Mikey? Or Frank? Or Bob, or Ray? Shit._ “There is a way to work this out,” Brian said firmly. “I’m sure of it. I can get Gerard to tell me what happened, and I’m sure he has a good explanation.” He was quietly not sure of that at all; would the threat of expulsion actually persuade Gerard to talk? Nothing else had. Brian needed to be meaner.

“I hope he does,” said the principal heavily. “It would be wonderful to be told what happened. I’d really like to know.” He shook Brian’s hand again. “Gerard seems like a nice kid.”

 _Yeah. Damn it_. Most of Brian’s anger at Gerard had deflated, and by the time they got out in to the waiting room he was more depressed than anything else. Gerard looked up anxiously at him for a second, and then dropped his eyes back to the floor.

“I don’t think this is going to work out,” Brian sighed. “Come on. Let’s go.” He was working out how to spin the conversation for Claire.

\ \ \ \ \ \

“That’s what he said,” Gerard said. He sounded totally panicky over the phone.

Frank hadn’t been able to get in to the principal’s office to see Gerard, no matter how many times he knocked on the door and told the secretary that he _had to_ because it was an _emergency_. Eventually one of the hall monitors had come and dragged him away, and put him in the detention room where he couldn’t even go check to make sure Mikey was okay.

The whole school was talking about how Bert was in the emergency room and how much blood there had been all over the table, and how when he got back tomorrow he was going to murder Gerard with his bare hands. Frank believed it. Bert’s friends had somehow already made the rounds, warning everyone that anyone who told the teachers anything about what happened was going to get jumped. Frank was actually glad Gerard was in the principal’s office, where he was relatively safe.

He’d needed to talk to Gerard urgently, though. He ran all the way home the second the last bell rang and speed-dialed Brian’s house until Gerard finally picked up. Gerard was grounded from the phone again, but Brian was out picking up Mikey.

Frank bounced up and down on his bed a couple of times. “Really? But that doesn’t _sound_ like Brian. He loves you guys!”

“He loves _Mikey_ ,” Gerard said. He was maybe starting to cry, which weirded Frank out. Gerard only cried when shit was really hitting the fan. “I’m always in trouble. He said so.”

“Right, but I can’t believe he’d kick you out,” Frank said doubtfully. Every time he went over Brian seemed to like having kids around. Brian was a cool guy.

“‘It’s not going to work out,’” Gerard quoted again. “I’m not working out, Frank. He tried keeping us, but I fucked it up. He _said_ so.”

Frank really didn’t want to believe that, but Gerard had been in trouble a lot considering it was barely October. Frank thought it was pretty awesome how Gerard was willing to do anything to protect Mikey, but he got where Brian was coming from. This was why he’d been trying to come up with a non-violent solution. “Maybe he’ll give you another chance,” Frank offered. “Brian’s a cool guy. You’ve been kind of a pain in the ass a lot this year, and he hasn’t kicked you out yet. Why don’t you tell him what happened and see what he says?”

“What happened was he told me not to get in another fight, and I did, and he’s tired of it. He said so! He said it couldn’t happen anymore, he couldn’t deal with it anymore. Frank, I—I—” He was definitely crying now.

“Gerard, you’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?” Frank asked anxiously. Stupider than getting in fights at school, obviously. Frank was totally sympathetic about that.

There was a long pause. Frank’s stomach started knotting itself up. Gerard was scary when he was quiet. “I don’t know,” Gerard said finally. “I want Mikey to be happy, and Mikey’s happy with Brian. I want him to be able to stay. I don’t want to just sit around and wait for things to get worse.”

“You can come stay with me! My mom loves you.”

“Frank. No.”

“Totally! It’ll be awesome.” Frank was really worried about what else Gerard was thinking. Gerard was totally the best friend ever, because he was never boring and he always had ideas that Frank would never had dreamed up in a million years. But that was kind of not-good when Gerard was upset.

“I don’t want Brian to have to kick both of us out,” Gerard said slowly. His voice was shaking. “I should… Maybe I should go.”

“ _No_.” Frank had a total panic attack. He opened the window. Maybe if he ran straight over to Brian’s house right now he could stop Gerard before he left. “Dude, no! Listen, you’re in trouble because of Bert, right? What if we tell the principal what happened? What if we find a way to fix this?”

“It’s not going to help,” Gerard said miserably. “He doesn’t care. Bert shoved Mikey in front of the whole school and no one said a word. Bert came right up to me and said that even if I told everyone in the world no one was going to believe me. His dad works for the school, and I broke his nose. And I don’t know how to tell about what happened before… Jesus, Frank, I _can’t_.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Frank said ferociously. “Give me a day or two, okay, Gee? I’ll figure out a way so they’ll let you back in to school and Brian will be happy and you can stay. Don’t go. Promise you’ll wait.”

Gerard sniffled audibly. “Brian’s really mad,” he said quietly. “He’s already on the phone with Claire.”

“24 hours, Gerard. C’mon,” Frank bargained. “Please.”

“Okay,” Gerard said. “Frank, I’m really sorry.”

Frank said fiercely “Bert’s gonna be sorry, too,” and hung up.

Okay. Time for a plan.

\ \ \ \ \ \ \ \

Of all the times for Lou to fucking call. “I can’t go this weekend,” Brian said. “I’d love to. I want to. But I can’t. Things aren’t good with the boys, and I have to be here.”

“Brian,” said Lou. “You know I love you, and you’re my best guy. Now get your ass to L.A for this showcase tomorrow, or I’m firing you. If you can’t do your job, then you should find a new one. The kids will still be there when you get back, right? Jesus, they aren’t even really your kids anyway.”

“Lou--”

“Yes or no, Brian. Can you go or not?”

 _God damn it!_ How was it possible that everything in his whole life was going wrong at the same moment? Until the crisis with Gerard and school passed Brian wasn’t ready to deal with shit at work. He swallowed his first instinct, to tell Lou to go fuck himself. Jesus, the things he wasn’t saying lately. He hated being a mature grown up.

“Okay,” Brian said. “If I can go out Friday and be back Sunday. I can’t be away longer than that. I won’t leave them alone.” Brendon could be there for part of the time, he hoped, and his mother could cover the rest. The kids would probably talk to one of them. Mikey had been even quieter than Gerard had been. He wouldn’t say anything about how his glasses had gotten broken. If someone was fucking with Mikey to make Gerard react, then Brian wanted to kill that person. But he needed the boys to tell him _who_.

“Perfect. Wonderful. Great. We try to be a family friendly company, Brian, and I guess they’re sort of your family. We are just a do-your-fucking- _work_ company, too.”

“Yeah,” Brian muttered. “Great.” A quiet little voice reminded him that he had more than enough money put aside to quit his job and look for another one, even with both kids to look after. He could give himself a vacation and deal with this shit. Except he couldn’t; he knew that Gerard’s fight at school was one red flag to Claire’s boss, and Brian losing his job would be a second. Until all the paperwork was signed and stamped, Brian felt safer sticking it out. He hung up the phone and promised himself it would only be a few more weeks.

“God damn it,” Brian said, aloud this time. He had to call Claire anyway. He might as well put the whole thing out on the table.

He dialed her number with a hell of a lot more trepidation than usual. He was a little disappointed that she answered on the second ring.

“Schechter. Good news?”

“Uh. No.” She stifled a sigh. As quickly as he could, Brian laid out the situation with Gerard and the other situation with his boss. He tried to put a positive spin on it, but it was hard, honestly, to make it sound like anything other than a shitty fucking week.

“Brian,” she said finally. “Damn it. If Gerard’s not adjusting well--”

“I _know_ ,” Brian said. “But he’s better, Claire. He’s stopped tiptoeing around all the time. He’s stopped freaking out about everything. He’s stopped agreeing with me because he’s scared. The nightmares are practically gone. It’s just… Well, shit, if I were him I’d be angry all the time, anyway. I think he was provoked in to this.”

“He can’t be getting in trouble this often, Brian. God, I’m going to have to explain the hell out of this to my boss. And you owe me _big_.” He could hear Claire grinding her teeth over the phone. “At least I can argue this is less trouble than he had in the last few placements. Wait, I know; I wanted to get him into regular counseling anyway. The reports will reflect how much safer he feels with you than anywhere else.”

“As long as they you aren’t going to recommend moving Gerard out of my house, I don’t care what you do,” Brian said flatly.

Claire made an unhappy noise. “I’m not doing it for you,” she said. “I’m doing it because I’ve known Gerard for almost four years now, and the happiest he’s ever been is there. That kid deserves a break.”

Fair enough. Brian felt pretty much the same way. “And what are we going to do about school?” Brian asked.

“If he’s expelled, we’ll… We’ll figure it out. Another prep school, maybe. Public school would be a disaster. Brendon worked out, right? Maybe you can home-school him somehow. It won’t help him with his socialization problems, but it’ll keep him out of trouble.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” Brian sighed. “I’ll start calling around to other schools. He has friends at this one, though. Gerard doesn’t make those easily. I’m so pissed that this is happening.”

“Maybe it’ll shock him in to behaving himself,” Claire offered. “If nothing else will. And on a related, but much happier topic, the papers are ready. You need to decide if you really want to sign them.”

Finally, a bright spot in the darkest fucking day Brian could remember. “Seriously?” he asked. “They’re going to be officially mine?” Assuming, of course, that Gerard and Mikey even wanted to stick around. He still hadn’t asked them.

“Are your hands starting to shake, or do you want me to fax them over?” Claire asked. “Are you sure you’re ready to sign your life away?”

“That isn’t funny.” Brian’s throat felt tight and uncomfortable. What if he asked, and Gerard freaked out?

“Let’s try to keep the fuck ups to a minimum until all the t’s are crossed and the i’s are dotted, okay?”

Brian hung up and put his head in his hands. Gerard was going to be totally devastated if he had to switch schools, especially after all the finagling to get Frank in with him. Actually, Frank might just refuse to keep going to Montrell if Gerard wasn’t there. Frank was a good kid.

Brian went upstairs and knocked on Gerard’s door. He was sitting in a miserable ball on the bed, chin on his knees, eyes suspiciously wet. The phone was on his pillow, so obviously he wasn’t taking the grounding very seriously. Brian decided not to say anything. He was a little annoyed, but it was hard to focus on that when Gerard looked so upset.

“I just talked to Claire,” Brian said. “We’re going to figure out somewhere else for you to go.”

Gerard went kind of pale. Brian sighed; he knew Gerard liked the art teacher at Montrell. This was going to break his heart. “Okay,” Gerard said quietly. “I kind of told Frank that might happen.”

Brian tried to put a positive spin on the whole thing. “It’s just not working out. Sometimes, even when you really want something, it just doesn’t. I’m sorry. But Claire’s going to come up with some other options, okay?” He smiled, but it came out a little sad. He hated disappointing Gerard, even when he was behaving like a brat.

Gerard’s eyes were definitely tearing up. “Hey, it’s not the end of the world,” Brian offered. “Sometimes you try something, and no matter how good your intentions are, it just… Doesn’t work. Okay? It’s nobody’s fault.”

Gerard just nodded.

“Are you gonna be okay?” Brian asked, frowning.

“Yeah,” Gerard said, swallowing hard. “I’ll be fine.”

Brian wanted to say something else, but he couldn’t think of anything especially comforting. Gerard had gotten himself in a lot of trouble. Maybe he needed some time to think about that and really reflect on how badly he’d screwed up. That was the kind of thing parents did, right? Tough love? “Okay,” Brian said finally. “If you want to talk later about anything, let me know.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Gerard said. His shoulders were starting to shake a little bit. Brian figured he’d want to be alone with his misery, and shut the door.

\ \ \ \ \ \ \

Frank was working on a plan. Gerard would probably not have approved of his plan, but that was fine; Frank had no intention of telling Gerard his plan unless it worked. That way, it would be too late for Gerard to get upset about anything. Plus, by that point Gerard would be all happy. Frank liked making Gerard happy. Something about Gerard being happy made Frank feel happy. Frank had decided not to wonder why.

The first part of Frank’s plan was Bob.

Frank snuck out of his house after his mom went to bed and rode his bike to Bob’s house. Back in the before-Gerard era Frank had ridden his bike around at night when he got bored. Since Gerard and Mikey had moved in he had a lot more to do during the day. Plus, he was pretty sure if Gerard knew he was doing it he would have pitched a fit. Gerard had spent however long alone, looking after himself and Mikey, and sometimes he got confused and thought he had to look out for Frank, too. Frank figured it was just easier not to tell him so he wouldn’t worry. It was how he handled his mom, too.

He knew which window of the house was Bob’s from back when Frank had been stalking him. Frank picked up a rock and threw it at Bob’s window. Nothing happened. Frank threw another rock. If Bob didn’t come out in a second, Frank was going to start on the rocks that would break the window.

Luckily the light went on and the window opened. “What the fuck, dude?” Bob demanded, sticking his head out. He was on the second floor, but Frank could still hear his annoyed whisper.

“Disaster,” Frank said. “Tragedy. Horror.”

“Gerard?” Bob asked.

Frank nodded.

“C’mon up,” said Bob.

Frank scaled the side of the house without too much trouble. Bob’s parents were the kind of people who liked lattices, apparently. “There’s a problem,” Frank said. Bob just raised an eyebrow. Bob was wearing pajamas with drums on them. It was a little hard to take him seriously. As quickly as he could, Frank laid out what was going on with Gerard and Brian and the possible disaster and how it was all fucking Bert’s fault. “And I’m really worried Gerard is going to freak out. He’s upset.”

Bob considered for a minute. “So, what,” he said, “you want me to go over to Bert’s house and break his nose some more? I’ll do it, but I don’t think it’s so helpful.”

Frank really loved Bob. “No,” said Frank, “I want Bert to confess about all the shit he’s been doing to Gerard. But this time I want there to be a witness.”

“There were a bunch of witnesses last time,” Bob frowned. “Bert doesn’t care. And if we tell on him we’re going to get murdered.”

“I don’t care if Bert tries to kill me anymore,” Frank said. “And last time, Principal Paris wasn’t one of the witnesses.”

Bob considered for a minute. And then he nodded. That was the awesome thing about Bob. It didn’t matter how crazy what Frank said to him was; he was down for making it happen. “What do you need me to do?” Bob asked.

“Well, someone has to get Mr. Paris where Bert is,” Frank said. “I’m going to get Bert to talk about it.”

Bob frowned. “He’ll kill you.”

“Yeah. But if Gerard’s gone I might as well be dead.” It was kind of melodramatic and Frank bit his lip as soon as he said it, but Bob just nodded, like he understood. Maybe he did.

“This better work, Iero,” said Bob. He crossed his arms. Bob was so fucking awesome all the time that Frank had to hug him.

“Yeah,” Frank nodded. His heart was thumping kind of weirdly in his chest. “I know.”

\ \ \ \ \

Brian was on a flight mid-morning. He dropped Mikey off at school on his way to the airport, and left Gerard home with Jeanne. Gerard hadn’t come downstairs for breakfast. Brian wasn’t really surprised at how hard the kid was taking it. He was probably upset about leaving Frank behind. Brian got that. Gerard depended on Frank for a lot.

He spent most of the flight to L.A. looking out the window, tapping his pen anxiously against his clipboard. He was still convinced there was something he could say to the principal that would make him let Gerard stay. Something clever and awesome and totally unexpected. What the hell could it be?

He was also worried about what he’d say to Gerard when he got back. Gerard was obviously miserable, and Brian couldn’t fix it, because he had to be the adult and punish the kid for something Brian had done himself. Mikey was going to want to go wherever Gerard went. If he moved Gerard to a different school, should he pull Mikey out, too? They’d both be happier in the same place. Mikey hid it pretty well but he worried about Gerard as much as Gerard worried about him.

There was also the little detail of the official adoption papers.

He was about ninety-percent sure Mikey would be happy, at least. But what about all the times Gerard had insisted Brian’s house wasn’t really “home”? And the fact that he still didn’t trust Brian enough to tell him about whatever was going on at school. Brian didn’t want to sign the papers and make everything legal and final if it wasn’t what Gerard really wanted.

It stung, but Brian understood. If his mother had ever remarried he couldn’t have called anyone else “dad.” He couldn’t imagine what it had been like for Gerard, who’d lost the people he’d loved, and had no choice but to put up with whatever bullshit replacements came along. Especially because some of them had been so rotten. Brian still itched to track down the man who’d hit Gerard and break his neck.

Was it kinder to Gerard to give him the option – and maybe break Brian’s heart – or to present him with a _fait accompli_?

He thought about a lot of things on the plane, and none of them were his job.

\ \ \ \ \

Frank and Bob got Ray to help them out at school the next day. They were reluctant to involve Mikey, because Frank was starting to feel like Mikey was his little brother, too, which meant as long as Gerard was suspended from school it was Frank’s job to keep Mikey safe. Involving Mikey in a plan to get Bert McCracken upset was not keeping him safe. Frank wasn’t willing to risk it.

Bob, though, was totally down, and Ray was amiable about everything anyway. Frank told them grimly that they’d probably all be dead before lunch. Bob just shrugged. Ray laughed. “You’re so fucking melodramatic,” he said, and flicked Frank’s ear.

It wasn’t a super-complicated plan; Frank had maybe ripped it off a little bit from the end of _She’s All That_ which he had watched (against his will!) with Gerard and Brendon over the summer. Frank was going to get Bert to confess to all the shit he’d done by making him mad, and Bob and Ray were going to get the principal to overhear. “What if he’s at a conference or something?” Ray asked.

Frank had not considered that. “Then Bert will probably kill me,” he said. “So get Paris to the hallway. I don’t care if you have to set Bob on fire.”

Bob looked mildly affronted. “Why can’t we set Ray on fire?” he asked.

Ray rolled his eyes. “Come on,” he ordered. “This Mission Impossible shit isn’t going to happen by itself.” He dragged Bob down the hallway.

Frank skipped class, hiding out in the bathroom when the bell rang, and then went looking for Bert. He was back in school with a splint on his nose and a black eye. Frank knew sometimes you got a black eye from getting hit in the nose, and he couldn’t really believe Gerard had hit Bert _twice_. He had enough trouble believing Gerard had hit Bert once – although it made him really proud.

Bert was a well-known class skipper, and the teachers didn’t like him much more than the students did, so they tended not to report it. From what Gerard said, it was easier for everyone when Bert wasn’t in class. All Frank had to do was find Bert, piss him off, and hope Ray and Bob got there with the principal at the right time. Frank wasn’t nervous, though. If it didn’t work he’d just kick Bert in the balls until he confessed anyway. Frank was pretty fucking angry, and how much worse could fighting really make things anyway, at this point?

Bert was smoking by the back door to the Upper School. It wasn’t that shocking. “Hey,” said Frank.

Bert looked up. Thank god he was by himself. “Yeah?” he said, dropping his cigarette and stomping on it. “Did you want something, infant?”

“Yeah,” said Frank. “I want to show you something.”

“Fuck you,” said Bert.

Frank worked really, really hard to keep his cool. Gerard was depending on this, even if he didn’t know it yet. “Yeah, you wish,” he said.

Bert narrowed his eyes. If he hit Frank here it would ruin everything. Frank took a step back toward the door. He didn’t mind getting hit; he’d been hit lots of times. Just as long as it happened upstairs, with witnesses. “Shut up,” said Bert.

“There’s a camera in the art room,” Frank lied. “You remember, the place where you and Gerard…? I have the video.”

It was plausible, barely. It was enough to make Bert’s sneer turn in to a frown. “How did you get it?” he asked.

“I stole it,” Frank shrugged. He made it sound nonchalant -- a word he’d picked up from Brendon. _Buy this story_ , he ordered Bert silently. _Come on_.

Bert hesitated for a minute. “Okay,” he said, “so show me.”

It was all Frank could do not to fist-pump right there. He shrugged and walked back in, sticking his hands in his mildly-uncomfortable dress slacks. He knew Bert was behind him, so he didn’t look back. Even if Bert didn’t totally believe him, he had to check. Frank was winning.

He led the way upstairs to his locker and opened it as slowly as he could. Bob and Ray either had the principal (or god, any teacher, really) coming to eavesdrop by now or they didn’t. Frank resisted the urge to bounce on his toes like a boxer, just in case it came down to punching. He couldn’t give his game away yet.

“If I’m going to give you this,” Frank said, “I need to know it won’t happen again.”

“Obviously not, since that freak got kicked out,” Bert said. He sounded funny with a broken nose.

Frank had to remind himself not to sucker-punch Bert. “Why couldn’t you just stop fucking with Gerard?” Frank asked.

Bert slammed his hand against the locker. He was going to get them busted by a classroom teacher, and then this would all be futile – another Brendon word. “Fuck you,” said Bert. “This is my school. I can do whatever I want.”

Frank frowned. “That’s bullshit,” he said.

Bert leaned down and got right in Frank’s face. “When Gerard gets back,” he said, “I’m gonna slap him around right in front of everybody, and no one’s gonna say a word. And then I’m gonna kill his brother. No; I’ll kill him _first_ and make Gerard watch. I’m gonna stuff his tie down his throat and slam his head in to the locker until he’s crying like a little bitch.”

Frank crossed his arms so he wouldn’t be tempted to punch. “Big words,” Frank said, “from the guy who was all over him.”

Bert’s face went red. “Shut up!” he said. “He was practically begging me.”

“You had to shove him in to the wall,” Frank objected. Which was when Frank worked it all out. “You kissed him because _you_ have a crush on _him_ ,” Frank blurted. “And he hit you for it. You thought you could stick your tongue down his throat and he wouldn’t stop you!” He was pretty pissed that Bert was going to be Gerard’s first kiss forever. That was some serious bullshit.

Bert shoved Frank. “That little faggot would let me fuck him anytime, any place,” he said. “He only hit me because you were there watching.”

Frank couldn’t believe how stupid Bert actually was. “He didn’t want _you_ , and that’s why you kept bugging him.” This was some kind of twisted Melrose Place shit right here. He’d have to thank Brendon for making him watch the reruns. Otherwise he’d never have worked all this out.

“That kid is lucky I didn’t snap his neck,” Bert growled, “and when my friends get done fucking all of you up, I’m going to go to their house and fuck them both up again, just because I can. Now give me that fucking tape, if you’ve even got it, or I’m going to throw you out the window.”

“You can try,” Frank said. “But not if I fuck you up first.” Frank’s delight at figuring out Bert’s weird brain was fading, replaced mainly with white-hot rage. Bert was begging for another black eye. Frank would provide it, _with pleasure_.

“Fuck you,” Bert said. “You’re just mad ‘cause you wish he was _your_ boyfriend.”

Frank refused to think about that right now, or maybe ever. He concentrated on how he could crush and destroy Bert, when Bert had the bad manners to be way taller than he was. “I’m gonna _kill_ you,” Frank promised.

“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Iero.”

Frank and Bert both kind of froze. Frank was so busy being angry that he had honestly forgotten that this was part of a plan.

But there was Mr. Paris, with folded arms and a stern expression, and just behind him Bob and Ray. “This is the ‘urgent problem’ I needed to come see, right Mr. Bryar?”

Bob nodded.

Mr. Paris pressed his lips together. “Mr. McCracken,” he said. “I’m not sure what’s the most disturbing part of this conversation. The acts of violence toward another student? The sexual harassment? The pre-meditation on what your next act of violence will be?”

Bert’s mouth was sort of open, and he blinked a couple of times. “But,” he said. “But I— ”

“I wish you had spoken to me about these incidents when they first occurred,” said Mr. Paris to Frank. The way he was standing in the hallway under the fluorescent lights it sort of looked to Frank like he had a little halo. “But I understand that the situation was awkward. There won’t be any need for violence, will there?”

Frank wasn’t one-hundred percent sure he understood what was going on, but he shook his head. Mr. Paris, in Frank’s incredibly limited experience, was an okay guy. He hadn’t been mean when Frank got in the fight with Bert and he wasn’t being mean now. Frank had a low opinion of most teachers, but he was willing to give this one a shot, on Gerard’s behalf.

“I didn’t do shit! It was all--” Bert protested.

Mr. Paris frowned again. “Language, Mr. McCracken,” he said. “I’ll be calling your parents immediately. This is very serious business.” He turned to the other boys. “Shouldn’t you gentlemen be in class?”

“Uh,” said Ray. “So, is Gerard still in trouble?”

Bert made a snarly noise. Mr. Paris turned calmly back to him. “You’re going to be expelled,” he said. “Go to your locker and collect your bag, please.”

“But _Gerard_ ,” Frank insisted.

“Will be back in school on Monday,” Mr. Paris said. “I think we can safely say this wasn’t entirely his fault.”

Frank was thrilled. He high-fived Ray and Bob. “Fucking yeah, mother fucker!” Frank yelled. Ray laughed. Bob rolled his eyes.

The only snag, as it turned out, was Gerard. By the time they got to his house after school to celebrate, he was long gone.


	12. Chapter 12

The band was loud. Brian watched them with cynical eyes and a beer in one hand. It was nice to be out of the house enjoying himself like a grownup, even if it was just an afternoon showcase for a shitty band in L.A. He missed being home, though. Mikey would have had awesome things to say about the music. Gerard would have made fun of their stage makeup for hours. Brian liked being out by himself sometimes, but not as much as he missed the boys.

Somehow he’d totally settled in to the idea of parenting. Even when they were in trouble, even when it cramped Brian’s style, he liked having the kids around. He was used to being responsible. It had stopped making him nervous all the time. Brian smiled to himself.

Halfway through the second song his phone started buzzing, and went on continuously for five minutes. Brian finally took it out of his pocket to turn it off, but the name on it said “MIKEY,” and Mikey knew better than to call for anything less than an emergency.

 _Oh, god_. Gerard had gotten in another fight. Gerard had gotten expelled from… Something. Shit. Brian shoved his way to the back of the club where he could hear.

It wasn’t Mikey, it was a panicked high-pitched voice that Brian finally placed as Frank’s. “ _—He’s gone and he didn’t even tell Mikey where he was going and why did you tell him that when you knew it would make him leave I thought you were okay Jesus Brian!_ ” Frank yelled all in one breath.

“Frank,” Brian sighed, sticking a finger in his free ear. “What the hell are you talking about? I’m working right now. I’ll be back in a couple of days for whatever this is.”

“ _GERARD IS GONE!_ ” Frank yelled.

Brian couldn’t understand him. “He’s in his room,” Brian said. “He’s upset about school.”

“ _He’s upset because you’re KICKING HIM OUT._ ” Frank sounded really frantic.

“ _I’m_ not kicking him out. The _school_ might be kicking him out,” Brian protested.

“ _No they aren’t! I took care of it. Gerard is back in – Never mind. Gerard is GONE, Brian. He’s not here! He left Mikey a fucking note!_ ”

Brian felt the room spinning a little bit. Since the day he’d lost the kids on the mall he hadn’t worried about Gerard leaving. There wasn’t any reason for Gerard to leave. “Why would he be gone?” Brian demanded. He started shoving his way out of the club.

“ _He said that you said that you were talking to Claire about putting him somewhere else because it wasn’t working out and he didn’t want to go back to that fucking group home and so he was LEAVING and you’re a DICK, Brian!_ ” Frank hollered.

“Hang on, I never said that!” Brian protested. And then he stopped and ran back through the conversations he’d had with Gerard in the last couple of days.

 _‘You’re going to get you and Mikey taken away from me,’_ check. _‘You wanted to stay and you fucked this up,’_ check. _‘Sometimes even though you really want something it doesn’t work out,’_ check. _‘Claire and I are going to find somewhere else for you that will work out better,’_ check.

Jesus Christ, had he ever specified that he meant a new _school_ and not a new _home_?

“Frank,” Brian tried to say, but he couldn’t get it out. His throat was closing off. Gerard was _gone_. “Frank,” he managed. “That’s not what I meant. I meant a new school. I didn’t mean a new house!”

“Don’t tell me that, tell him!” Frank said, but a lot of the anger was gone from his voice, replaced by a thousand percent sheer worry.

“How long has he been gone?” Brian asked. His hands were shaking a little bit as he hailed a cab. He had to get back to Philly. He had to be back a day ago, before Gerard left. He had to go back and punch himself in the mouth for not noticing the look on Gerard’s face.

“Mikey says a while,” Frank said. “Since he before he got home from school. We’re gonna go back out and look, okay? Can you come home?”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Brian said. His hands were shaking so hard he had to put his phone in his pocket so he wouldn’t drop it. He climbed in to a cab and started counting minutes until he was home.

\ \ \ \ \ \

It was almost dawn and Frank felt like he was going to die.

Mikey was _frantic_. He hadn’t stopped pacing all night. He was walking back and forth in the living room biting his lip, looking totally like Gerard, which was both ironic and tragic. Frank didn’t know what to do. His best friend was gone, and if the note he’d left Mikey was to be believed, he wasn’t coming back.

“Gee should have _told_ me,” Mikey said, in his weird hiccupy-sad voice, for about the ten thousandth time. “He thinks stupid things _all the time_. Why didn’t he _ask_ me? I would have told him!”

Ray and Bob had come up with incredibly creative excuses for their parents in order to stay overnight. Bob sat on the stairs, frowning, while Ray had spent most of the night sitting on the couch, trying to convince Mikey to sit down because Gerard would be back. Frank was glad he was there; he didn’t have the energy to repeat the same probably-lies to Mikey over and over.

“We’re going to find him,” Jeanne promised calmly. She was making soup in the kitchen, which was pretty normal, but she was dropping stuff a lot more than usual and she kept coming out to hug Mikey for no reason. Frank figured that meant she wasn’t really calm at all. Brendon, meanwhile, had been out wandering the streets all night looking for Gerard. Mikey had called him after school in hysterics. He was probably getting mugged, though, because Brendon wasn’t very scary.

“No, you won’t!” Mikey almost wailed. He collapsed on the couch. Ray put an arm around him. “Gee’s going to go hide because he’s upset and I’m not there! I should be there!” Mikey bounced back up to his feet, aiming for the door.

Ray and Frank grabbed for Mikey at the same time. “You’re not going anywhere,” Jeanne said firmly from the kitchen, waving a spoon at him.

“We can’t look for both of you,” Frank said. “Don’t you dare.”

“As soon as it’s lighter out me and Bob are going to go looking again,” Ray said. “Stop worrying.”

Mikey’s face was an epic poem about misery. “But it’s _Gee_ ,” he said. “And it’s been _all night_. He’s _gone_. He… He left me!” He crumpled a little bit.

The note had been an especially mean touch, because Gerard had drawn himself on it, waving goodbye. He’d also drawn a unicorn, for reasons Frank didn’t understand. Frank was going to break his nose when he came home. If he came home. He _had_ to come home. He’d scribbled something incomprehensible about wanting Mikey to be happy with Brian and not wanting to make Brian any madder or go back to the city-run place with Claire and that he loved Mikey and goodbye. Gerard was so _stupid_ it made Frank’s chest hurt.

Mikey curled up, shaking a little, on the couch. He was Frank’s little brother until his real, actual, _stupid_ , brother came home. Frank pulled Mikey in to his lap and petted him, the way his mom petted him when he was upset. Mikey’s shoulders were shaking as he cried silently. Frank and Ray and Bob exchanged a long look. Someone was going to have to stay home with Mikey while everyone else went out looking for Gerard. No one wanted to take Mikey out, even if it meant a better chance to find Gerard. There was no guarantee Mikey wouldn’t decide that he preferred to be with Gerard, wherever he was, and vanish.

Brendon burst in waving like a crazy person. “Brian!” he said.

“But no Gee?” Frank asked.

Brendon bit his lip and got quiet, which was always a bad sign with Brendon. It was unnatural.

The door banged open. Brian was in mid-conversation. “—Don’t care, Lou,” he said. “This is my kid.” He paused, and the look on his face was downright scary. “No,” he said, “not my ‘almost’ kid or my ‘sort of’ kid or my ‘pretend’ kid. Gerard is my son in every way that counts, and he’s missing and he’s scared and he’s alone and I don’t give a fuck if you fire me and give my job to Ryan Ross; my kid is the only thing I care about right now.”

Frank wished Gerard was around to hear Brian say that. He rubbed Mikey’s back.

“No, you know what? _I quit_. Fuck you,” Brian said, and hung up. His hair was wild and his tie was undone and he looked like he was going to start tearing out throats at any minute. His eyes were red and crazy looking. “Where is he? He’s not back? Why aren’t all of you out _finding him_?”

“We _were_ ,” Brendon said. He looked exhausted and scared and sad and lots of other things Brendon never usually was. He handed Brian the note Gerard had left. Brian read it and his eyes got really wide for a second, and then he narrowed them and pressed his lips together.

“Your mom said we couldn’t go back out until it was light outside,” Ray added.

“Brian!” said Mikey, pushing himself upright. His pale face was splotchy with tears and his glasses were crooked. “Brian, Gerard’s gone!” He held his arms out to Brian in a way Frank had never seen him do before, and Brian dropped his phone and scooped the kid up in to a giant hug. Frank secretly wished Brian would hug him, too.

Brian kept his voice steady as held on to Mikey. “It’s going to be okay,” Brian promised. Mikey made a tiny sobbing noise. “Mikey, hey. Hey. I need you to think, okay? You’re the one person who might know where Gerard is now. I need you to make a list of all the places Gerard might have gone. And then I’m going to go find him and bring him back. I promise.”

Mikey sniffled and his shoulders shook, and he still had his arms around Brian’s neck. “I don’t know,” he protested. “He’s gone! He promised he wouldn’t go without me!”

“C’mon, Mikey,” Brian coaxed. “There must be somewhere. Where did you guys go last time? Where would Gerard feel safe?”

Mikey tilted his head and thought. For a long time. Frank knew it was a long time because he was holding his breath, and his chest ached from waiting to breathe. Ray and Bob were just staring, wide-eyed.

“I guess there’s one place,” Mikey said finally. Frank’s stomach knotted up. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone. It’s our secret place to meet if we ever got split up. But we’re not split up. _I’m_ not split up. He just _left_ me. If he wanted to see me, he’d come back _here_.”

“He probably went there anyway,” Jeanne said quickly. “I think he wants us to find him, Mikey. Where is it?”

Mikey hesitated. He was upset and tired and freaking out. Brian had let go, so Frank hugged him again instead.

“You have to trust me to do the right thing here, Mikey,” Brian said seriously. “You know I love you both, right? Because I do. I’m going to go and get Gerard and bring him home. You just have to tell me how.”

“Mikey,” Frank whispered. Mikey looked at him. Frank nodded.

Mikey told them.

\ \ \ \ \ \

The tin shack on the rooftop was a lot draftier than the last place he’d found Gerard. Brian’s hands were shaking again. He was exhausted and scared and furious with himself. He was having a little trouble believing that he’d just broken in to a building. Everything felt crazy and falling apart, and he reminded himself that he just had to hold it all together until he found Gerard.

The sun was starting to come up over the city. Brian could see his breath. Gerard had been missing for almost a whole goddamn day. Brian knew what kind of trouble a fourteen year old could get in to overnight in the city, and he didn’t care that Gerard had taken care of himself and Mikey for months. He was Brian’s kid, now, and Brian was terrified that something would happen to him before Brian could find him and bring him home.

The shack leaned to the side, and the roof had slid partway off. No one had been there in a really long time. No one who cared about their own personal safety, at least.

Brian pushed the door open with his heart pounding and his hands sweaty and shaky and his head swimming. Gerard had to be here. Gerard absolutely one hundred percent had to be here.

The shack was empty.

Brian stared around for a long, long time. His heart thumped painfully. His whole chest ached. Gerard _couldn’t_ not be here. There was nowhere else for him to be. “Gerard?” he called hopefully.

The shack was tiny. It was also definitely empty.

Brian was going to cry. He could feel the ache behind his eyes, the way his throat tightened. He was somewhere beyond panic and sadness, somewhere numb that still hurt all over. He’d been so sure the kid wanted to be found, but Gerard wasn’t where he’d promised to wait for Mikey. And if he wasn’t waiting for Mikey, then he was really gone.

He turned and walked back out of the shack, rubbing his hands together. It was frigid up on the roof in the open air. He couldn’t go back down. He couldn’t call Mikey and Frank and Brendon and tell them Gerard wasn’t here. He couldn’t watch Mikey cry again. He couldn’t see Frank’s face crumple.

Brian walked over to the edge of the roof and leaned against the rusty railing. The city wasn’t awake yet. All those people, and no one would have seen one dark-haired kid who was too good at feeling guilty for his own good. Mikey was waiting, though. Brian was still going to make this happen somehow. He wasn’t going to just fucking give up. He’d start by calling the cops and then he’d walk every goddamn street of the city until he found Gerard. Brian closed his eyes.

His phone rang. Brian jumped.

“Yo,” said Gabe. “Did you for serious tell Lou to go fuck himself?”

Had he? Everything was lost in a blur of panic and anger. “Yeah,” said Brian. “I guess I did.” He paused. “Were you serious about the two of us starting up our own thing?”

“Jesus fuck!” yelled Gabe. “I have been trying to tell you this _forever_! We’ll steal all your old bands! And Ryan Ross is joining us; Lou really creeps him out. It will be the best fucking thing ever!”

“Listen, I can’t talk about this right now. I can’t do anything until we find Gerard. He’s—Nothing else matters right now, okay? But as soon as he’s back home we’ll work this out.” Brian wanted to be happy, but he was too numb with worry.

“I’m going to call Lou so I can tell him to go fuck himself,” said Gabe. “And then I’m going to find us some office space and start decorating it.” Brian winced. “This is awesome. Finally, dude!” He paused. “And uh, good luck with the kid thing. Really.”

“Thanks,” said Brian. “I need it.” He clicked the phone off.

An uncertain voice behind him said, “Um.”

Brian froze. _Please, please, please don’t let me have gone crazy and be hallucinating,_ Brian pleaded silently. He didn’t move. If he moved or turned around, it might be someone else.

“Brian? Did you mean that? Are you… Is Mikey here?”

 _Oh my god. Oh my god, thank you. I’m going to kill him._ Brian forced his voice to stay calm, although his throat was tight again and his eyes were burning. “Gerard,” he said slowly. “Hey.”

“Um,” said Gerard again. “Hi.” He sounded awful and scared and Brian’s heart was breaking all over again.

Brian turned around and took a really long, deep breath as he looked at Gerard, all disheveled and cold and _thank god standing there_ on the roof with his arms across his chest, hugging himself. “I didn’t think Mikey would tell you,” Gerard said awkwardly, scuffing his foot. “I kinda hoped not. I shouldn’t have come here, huh? It was sorta--”

Brian was already across the roof, arms around Gerard, holding on so tightly that Gerard tried to squirm away. “You don’t get to _leave_ ,” Brian whispered, because his voice wasn’t working right. “Gerard. You don’t get to leave. You promised you’d stay.”

“Yeah, but you were gonna--”

“A new _school_ ,” Brian said. He held Gerard out at arm’s length, clutching his shirt with both hands like the kid was going to make a break for it. _Another_ break for it. “Claire and I were going to find you a new _school_. How could you have thought I meant another home?”

Gerard’s mouth fell open a little bit. “But you--” he started. “You were so _disappointed_ and I fucked everything up.”

“Listen up, Way,” Brian ordered, leaning down a little to look Gerard right in the eye. “I fuck up sometimes. So do you. It doesn’t mean we don’t _love each other_. Got it?” Gerard looked totally embarrassed, and a little awed. “You know how you feel about Mikey?” Brian demanded, not letting go. Gerard nodded slowly. “Well that’s how I feel about you. About both of you. I haven’t said it, okay, but I love you.”

“Oh,” was all Gerard could manage.

Brian took another deep breath. “I don’t think you totally understand, Gerard. I have the papers at the house right now to make this permanent. I’m only going to fill them out, though, if…” He had to force the words out, because his mouth wasn’t working right. “Okay, I know this what I want. Is it…” This was almost scarier than looking for Gerard had been. “Is it what _you_ want?”

Gerard stared at him, and Brian couldn’t breathe. He had to say yes. Brian wasn’t going to let go until he did. And then Gerard tilted his head and looked down for a second and mumbled, “It… Yeah. That would be… I mean, yes, I want that.” When he looked back up his eyes were really big, and he was maybe starting to cry. Brian’s heart burst, and that was probably a tear rolling down his face, too. Thank god no one was around to see them. They’d have to deny everything when Mikey asked.

He hadn’t realized he’d been carrying an awful, choking weight around for weeks until it was suddenly gone. Brian smiled. “Then you and me and Mikey, this is it. Legally, officially, _forever_ now. I don’t care if you kill a kid at school. This is it. Got that? _We’re it_.”

Gerard nodded. “You really… You really still _want_ us?” he asked uncertainly. _Do you still want me?_ Brian heard.

Brian let go of Gerard and straightened out his jacket, so he’d have a second to get himself under control. Gerard scrubbed his face with his sleeve. “Of course I do, you dumbass,” Brian said. Gerard made a choking noise. “Next time there’s trouble at school, you’re going to _tell_ me, so I can help you out. This is only going to work if you trust me, Gee. I will never split you and Mikey up, and I will never get rid of you. Okay?”

Gerard nodded again, shakily. He took a deep breath, and then suddenly abandoned all the dignity he’d been trying to hold on to. He threw his arms around Brian’s neck, clinging and crying huge shuddering sobs that shook them both.

It was a lot like that second day they’d spent together, except this time Brian _got_ it. He knew this kid. Brian held on tightly and let him cry, face buried in Brian’s shoulder. “I was going to tell you about the papers but I thought you might not want to stay,” Brian said. “I’ve decided I don’t care. I’m keeping you. I might get a fucking leash.”

Gerard laughed uncertainly. “I left,” he hiccupped. “I got kicked out of school. You aren’t mad?”

“I was scared,” Brian admitted. “I was scared I wouldn’t find you. Frank already fixed all the school stuff. He talked to the principal or something. You’re back in. It’s all fine.”

“Frank’s crazy,” Gerard said, but with admiration in his voice. He’d managed to mostly stop crying, and to pry himself off Brian’s shoulder. Brian missed it a little bit already.

“Yeah. Frank loves you, too.”

Gerard sniffled and nodded. “I’m sorry I scared you,” he said. “I thought it’d be easier if I just went. I didn’t know you—You—you thought you loved me and stuff.”

“I love you, Gee. Deal with it.” Brian sighed. “I quit my job to go look for you. Now I’m going to have to work with Gabe every day. Jesus.”

Gerard looked at him. “You love me more than your bands?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah. Fuck yeah.”

Gerard said uncertainly, “Even when I screw up?”

“ _Especially_ when you screw up.” Brian couldn’t believe how true that was. Being a parent was _insane_.

A tiny little teasing smile played across Gerard’s face. Brian grinned so hard his face felt like it might crack. “You’re not gonna make me call you dad, are you?” Gerard asked.

“No,” Brian said. That would have been weird as hell. “But you have to start calling my house ‘home.’ Can we go, by the way? Mikey’s worried sick.”

Gerard looked aghast for just a minute, and then he relaxed in to a real smile. It was a little bit brighter than the sun rising behind the buildings. It was a little bit better than anything Brian had ever seen before in his entire life.

“Yeah,” said Gerard. “Let’s go home.”

\ \ \ \

Brian hadn’t even brought the car to a full stop before Mikey came flying out the front door of the house. Gerard looked mildly abashed and a little teary again.

Gerard pushed open the car door and Mikey hurled himself at his brother. “You _idiot_!” Mikey yelled. Brian had never heard him sound so angry, or so loud. “You are _so stupid_! Next time you think something stupid you tell me and I’ll fix it, you don’t _go away_!” The effectiveness of his anger was diluted by the way Mikey was desperately hugging his brother, and his stuffed-up nose from all the crying.

“I know,” Gerard said, hugging him back. “I’m—”

He didn’t get to finish his apology, because Frank was only two steps behind Mikey. Frank grabbed them both so tightly Brian wasn’t sure they could breathe. “I’m so mad at you,” Frank said. His voice was shaking. “I should punch you right in the fucking face. I said I would fix it and I did! You were supposed to wait!”

“I know, but I thought –”

“You were wrong! Me and Bob and Ray made Bert tell the principal all the shit he did, and you should have _believed_ me!” Ray and Bob were, in fact, hovering anxiously behind Frank. Bob looked sort of mad – but tempered with a lot of concern – and Ray was jumping up and down.

“I will next time,” Gerard promised, and Frank made a little noise in the back of his throat and went back to strangling him with hugs. Eventually Ray elbowed him out of the way to get a turn, and Frank hauled Bob into a hug with Gerard and him, and it was all arms and yelling and Brian was so fucking fond of all of them his throat hurt.

Brian turned off the car. His chest felt weird, like he couldn’t swallow or breathe, but not in a bad way. Gerard kept trying to apologize and never getting farther than the “I’m really-- ” before Mikey started scolding him or Frank started squeezing. Neither of them let go as they all herded Gerard back toward the house. Gerard didn’t seem to mind.

Brendon was waiting impatiently at the steps, and he had to settle for hugging Gerard along with Mikey. Frank and Ray and Bob waited impatiently a step away. “You scared the shit out of us. I hope Brian grounds you forever,” Brendon said, and hugged Gerard so hard he pulled the kid off his feet. Gerard started to cry again. Mikey wasn’t far behind.

“You are never going anywhere by yourself again, you get all stupid,” Frank ordered. Gerard hiccupped and nodded because he was crying too hard to talk. Mikey sniffled.

Gerard flapped his hands a little helplessly. “I’m--” he tried again, but Brendon was pulling him in to the house and Mikey was still clinging to his neck like was scared his brother would float away. Frank and Ray had started up an excited – and loud – conversation about how they’d split up shifts keeping track of where Gerard was at all times. Bob rolled his eyes.

“There you are, Gerard,” said Brian’s mom, in the doorway. “I made pancakes, which you don’t deserve. Look at you, you’re freezing. You couldn’t have taken a jacket with you? Get inside!” She hugged him briefly and then shoved him in toward the kitchen, trying to look stern and failing completely.

Brian walked up behind her. He wasn’t quite ready to go inside yet, because if he did he was going to get all choked up again and start crying again himself, and he was supposed to be a grown up who was mad at Gerard. He wasn’t sure he could pull it off. Brian kind of just wanted to hug him some more.

“You did good,” Jeanne said softly to him. Everyone else was hugging, so Brian took a second and hugged his mom. He hadn’t done it in a while, and it occurred to him he didn’t do it nearly enough.

“I try,” he said.

She looked a little shiny-eyed, too, but she hid it better than the kids, crossing her arms and clearing her throat. “You make a good family,” she said finally.

“Yeah,” said Brian, who couldn’t keep the stupid smile off his face. “We do.” And they all went inside.

  
 **THE END**

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic of] Forever, Now](https://archiveofourown.org/works/243628) by [klb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/klb/pseuds/klb)




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